“All right,” Alex said in reply to the fellow’s order, “I’ll call him up and keep him quiet after you go away. He’s been used to polite society and doesn’t like you!”
The man snarled out some surly reply and disappeared. Jule was at his chum’s side in a moment. The ropes were cut, and the two boys were speeding back to where Clay had been left.
There was a little scene of congratulation, and then Captain Joe, growling fiercely, leaped forward. The man who had gone in search of wood must have heard the noisy greetings of the boys, for he came running back to the fire. The boys saw him throw a hand back for a weapon, heard an exclamation of anger, and knew that the dog was springing at his throat.
The struggle was a short one, for the man who had been attacked had not succeeded in reaching his revolver. When the boys reached the scene the man was black in the face and the dog was shaking him viciously by the neck.
“Captain Joe seems to know who his friends are!” Alex shouted.
“If we don’t break his hold in a minute, the man will be dead,” Jule exclaimed, dancing excitedly about, “and we’re not out to commit murder.”
When the clutch of the dog was finally released, the man lay back, panting, on the ground. An examination of his injury showed that it was not serious, his throat having been compressed rather than torn.
In a moment the man sat up and glared about with murder in his protruding eyes. Seeing the dog still watching him, he gave him a vicious kick and came near inviting a repetition of the attack.
“I’ll kill that dog!” he shouted.
“No, you won’t!” laughed Alex. “We’re going to take that dog out of this blooming country. We’re going to tie you up so you won’t over-exert yourself while in your present weakened condition, and streak it for the motor boat. We’ve had enough of this blooming election precinct.”