Jack had begun to speculate on what was apt to happen when finally the pursuers were able to overtake the fugitive craft. He knew that the desperate men who were aboard would not be apt to think of surrendering easily, and especially when they knew or suspected that their foes consisted for the most part simply of half-grown boys.
They were armed, too, which was a fact calculated to make Jack act cautiously. True, he carried his reliable Marlin along with him, and at close range a shotgun is a serious weapon to consider, especially one of hard-shooting, modern kind, but Jack did not much fancy having to use this, except as the very last resort.
One thing surprised him not a little; he wondered why the escaping bank thieves had not thought to run their boat ashore, and escape to dry land. Surely they must have realized before now that the motor boats were in pursuit of them, and bound to overtake them at that, before long.
Perhaps they were still a little in doubt. Then, again, it might be they scorned to show the white feather in connection with a pursuit conducted by mere striplings. But Jack secretly believed there must be another and more likely reason for their sticking to the boat. If they landed, they were going to have a hard time of it avoiding the many officers who, spurred on by the reward that had likely been offered for their apprehension, and the return of the stolen plunder, would be on the lookout at every cross road in the country south.
Now, if only they could get a chance to change the color of their craft they might keep right on moving down the great river, and snap their fingers at every inquisitive person; for it would be a white boat that these watchers would be looking for.
Yes, these things must weigh heavily with the two men, and make them want to stick by the stolen motor boat as long as possible. They may have laid out their plans, and hated to alter them; and these had to do with a voyage on the river, running by night, until they reached a certain place of refuge; it might be down at St. Louis, for all Jack knew.
No matter what the reason, there was the white boat, still keeping to the middle of the wide river, and apparently doing her best to outrun the two pursuing craft.
When ten minutes had passed they had cut down that lead to less than half; and it really looked as if Jack’s prediction was about to come true.
“What can that dark thing away ahead be, I wonder?” Jack heard Josh saying about this time.
As it was of the utmost importance that he keep in close touch with everything that went on, no matter how trivial it seemed, the skipper immediately raised his head, and asked: