“I will promise nothing!” was the ugly reply.
“All right,” Case said.
There was a rush and a little struggle, but in the end, Max was overcome and stowed away bound hand and foot in the cabin.
Leaving his prisoner there, foaming with rage and searching a limited vocabulary for words to express his feelings, Case went out to the prow of the Rambler and sat down to think over the situation.
“That boy,” he mused, “was sent here to induce me to take the Rambler out of this place. Why?”
The boy considered the problem for a long time. He was hoping that some of his chums would make their appearance. He disliked very much to take the Rambler away from the place where they had left it, and still there might be a grain of truth in what Max had said.
The day was bright and still. The deep green foliage of the forest shone and shimmered in the sun. There were birds in the air, and here and there timid creatures of the jungle came out to the stream to drink and peer with questioning eyes at the stranger who had invaded their leafy retreat. There were no signs of human life anywhere except on board the Rambler. The continued absence of the boys seemed unaccountable.
“Well,” the boy decided, presently, “I’ll take a chance on a visit to the St. Lawrence. It won’t take long to run down, swing up to the other end of the peninsula and investigate the west stream. If the boys come back while I am gone, they’ll probably hear the motors clamoring and know that I am not far away. Still, I don’t think they’ll come.”
Case was slowly reaching the uncomfortable conclusion that the boys had, indeed, been overcome by the outlaws. In that case, his first act ought to be to secure help. If he returned to the St. Lawrence, he might meet a friendly captain who would be willing to assist him in the rescue.
So, with this idea in his mind, the boy drew up the anchor, started the motors to popping and headed the Rambler down stream. The boat proceeded at full speed, and soon the arm of the bay which closed in behind the peninsula came in view.