“Get up on that bridge. Remember, I’m behind you. One false move and——”
Malvin did not finish the sentence. He did not need to. His tone was sufficiently eloquent.
The boy ascended the few steps that led to the bridge. Malvin was right behind him. Ralph could see in his mind’s eye that menacing pistol held close to the small of his back.
They reached the bridge. The moment for Ralph’s plan to be put into execution had arrived.
He turned swiftly.
“Look!” he cried. “There comes a boat—a customs house boat!”
Malvin, startled, off his guard, turned his head for an instant toward the shore.
With a loud cry, Ralph leaped for the man. He seized his pistol wrist and wrenched it backward. Then he threw himself on the fellow with the whole force of his vigorous young strength.
As Malvin crashed backward down the steps, Ralph leaped for the pneumatic whistle. It was operated by a lever.
“Now for a police call!” he exclaimed pantingly as he grasped it. In another moment a cry for aid would have gone shrieking out from the River Swallow’s siren.