"Get up and take the oars," he cried. "Pal of mine though you are, if you try to make me any more trouble something will happen to you. I've got the bit in my teeth, I tell you, and I'll settle for Motor Matt as I think best."
Ross leaned forward and slashed the blade of his pocketknife through the painter, and a hoarse laugh echoed in Motor Matt's ears as the burning launch leaped away through the thick shadows.
[CHAPTER XI.]
CHUMS TO THE RESCUE.
Matt was several moments realizing the terrible predicament in which Ross had placed him. The glowing fire in the stern of the Sprite lighted the darkness with a ghastly glare.
The boat was on fire and speeding, with a lashed wheel, across the troubled waters of the lake.
What could Matt do to save himself? It was a time when he must think quickly. He would also have to act with promptness and decision—an impossibility in his helpless state.
If he could roll back over the hood, he might contrive to get aft and, in some manner, smother the fire.