Ross was strong, and, without deigning a reply, he heaved the helpless youth up onto the hood. Bound as he was, Matt's position was precarious in the extreme.
"I never thought you were such a scoundrel, Ross," Matt said quietly. "It can't be you're going to leave me like this."
"You wait till I get through," was the fierce answer.
By craning his head around, Matt could see Ross pick up a pile of waste. From the pungent odor of gasoline which assailed Matt's nostrils he knew that the waste had been soaked in the inflammable stuff.
Ross carried the waste back into the stern of the boat.
"You like motors, King," called Ross, "and I'm going to give you such a ride on a motor-boat as you never had before. I hope you'll enjoy it."
"For the last time, Ross," called Matt, horribly conscious of the trend the scoundrel's work was taking, "I ask you to think of what you are doing."
"I've thought of it all I'm going to. It's a fine plan, and I'm going to carry it right through to a finish."
Ross turned to the rowboat, which Kinky was keeping close to the Sprite.
"Come alongside, Kinky," Ross called. "I'm about ready to be taken off."