“Who are you, anyway?”
“Never mind,” answered Arnold sternly. “There are six of us here and we’ve got you all covered.”
“We don’t know what you’re talking about.” It was another voice this time, a deeper one. “You start shooting and you’ll get the worst of it, pardner! We never saw no houseboat.”
“Pick out your men, fellows,” said Arnold in a loud aside, “and aim at their bodies.” Then, addressing the launch again: “We’ll give you two minutes to get out of that boat and beat it. If you’re not on shore by that time we’ll fire on you. And any one of you taking anything ashore will get a bullet. Now, make up your minds, quick!”
Toby left the wheel and scuttled astern, keeping out of sight. Once there he raised himself so that his head and shoulders showed above the gunwale. Then he hurried back to the bow and repeated the operation. He couldn’t be five men, he decided, but he could manage to look like two at least. Perhaps that ruse decided the matter, for, after a moment or two, during which the low voices of the three occupants of the other launch muttered and growled, the first speaker spoke again.
“I guess you’ve got us,” he said quite cheerfully, “but you wouldn’t have caught us in a thousand years if we hadn’t run out of gas.” Toby’s sigh of relief mingled with Arnold’s. “Can we run this tub on the beach so’s we can get off?”
Arnold hesitated and Toby prompted with a whispered “No.”
“No, you can leave the launch where she is and hustle out of her.”
“We can’t swim!” called a third voice.