“But there’s no water there!” exclaimed Toby.
“They’re going to run her aground and escape!” cried Arnold.
“Perhaps; but I guess we’ll slow down a little. I don’t want to get too near.”
Arnold throttled the Frolic down to half-speed. The other launch worked cautiously in toward the shore and floated quietly in the moonlight. It was easy enough now to make her out and to count her occupants.
“Three of them,” whispered Toby, as the Frolic drew nearer and nearer. “Get your megaphone, Arn, and hail them. Keep down, though. Slide her into neutral and be ready to start up again if they try to plug us.”
Some three hundred feet of water separated the two launches as Arnold threw the clutch out. The Frolic slid slowly on to pass well astern of the other craft and Arnold raised the megaphone to his lips.
“Launch, ahoy!” he shouted in his deepest tones. There was silence for an instant, and then the hail was answered:
“Hello! What do you want?” floated across.
“We want the stuff you stole from the houseboat. Hand it over and we’ll let you go. If you don’t, we’ll begin to fire!”
Another silence, longer this time, and then the voice again: