"That identical boat."
"Belongs to you!"
"You've got it."
"That's a good joke, friend. We've owned this boat three years. Where do you come in?"
"She's the Follow Me, even if you have painted her name out, and you took her from her anchorage in Plymouth Harbour last night. What's the use of throwing a fool bluff like that?"
The man laughed hoarsely and his companion joined him. "Run away, kids!" he said finally. "You're crazy with the heat. This boat's the Esmeralda, of Providence, and she belongs to me and this feller. What do you mean, took her? Callin' me a thief, are you?"
"I'm not taking the trouble to. If you know what's good for you you'll dig out of there and do it quick."
"Is that so?" drawled the man. "Well, ain't that nice? An' supposin' it don't suit me to hand over my boat to you? Then what you goin' to do?"
"Take her," answered Steve quietly. "There are twelve of us here and we've followed you all the way from Plymouth, and we aren't likely to let you bluff us off now. Come on, now, what do you say?"
"Come on and take her, kids!" was the answer. "We're scared to death!" The men thought that extremely funny, and laughed a lot over it. Just then, Steve, leaning outboard over the railing, felt someone tug at his arm.