And at that instant there was a sound of splintering, breaking wood. Some red slivers flew out from between the two prostrate men who were struggling for possession of the weapon.
“The red oar! It’s broken!” cried Denny. “Me old red oar, that saved me life in the hands of Grandfather Lewis! The red oar is broken, bad luck to you! Cowards that you are!”
The girls were screaming, but even Cora, brave as she was, dared go no nearer to the two desperately struggling men. Bruce and Moran were seeking an opening that they might get hold of Denny. The fourth man had gone back to the boat, seemingly. He had leaped out of the window as the girls entered.
The cabin was a place of wild excitement.
“Get that oar away from him!” cried Bruce. “Here’s some rope. Tie him up, and then we’ll get what we want out of him!”
“Don’t you dare hurt him!” screamed Cora.
“Ah, would you?” gasped Denny, as he rolled out from under Kelly, who had sought to pass a rope about the old man’s wrists. “I’m not down and out yet!” he panted. “The red oar is broken, but I’ve got the best end yet.”
He staggered to his feet, holding the handle of the red oar. One end was splintered where it had been broken from the blade.
“Come on! I’m not afraid!” yelled Denny. “Come on. You girls had better leave——there’s going to be trouble!”
“We won’t go! Help is on the way. The boys are coming!” cried Cora, though she did not know when Jack and the others would arrive.