"Bright boy, son," said the elder scoundrel approvingly. "We've got you, younker," went on Brady, Sr., again facing Ferral. "We're too far from land for you to swim ashore, and I'm giving you credit for too much sense to try a trick like that. It was a bit of a surprise to me to see that Dutchman trailing along after you, but"—and here a black scowl crept over the man's face—"I've got a bone to pick with him and that meddling whelp, Motor Matt. The Dutchman won't get away from us so easily as you will, Ferral, I can promise you that. And before Motor Matt is many days older, I'll show him what it means to cross Brady's path."
Hector Brady, like his son, was a fair-spoken villain, but none the less dangerous for all that. As he ceased talking, he started to step from the cockpit to the aisle of deck between the cabin top and the sailboat's side.
"'Vast, there!" roared Ferral, twitching at the lanyard about his neck and bringing out a sheath knife. "Keep your offing, both you sharks, or you'll find a knife between your ribs. You've got us out in the lake, but you haven't my money yet, and you're not going to cut up rough with my raggie here. I got him into this mess, and I'm going to see him out of it."
A boat hook, dropped by the skipper when he was pushing the nose of the boat away from the pier, lay on the deck close to Carl's feet. He bent down and picked it up.
"Oof he makes some foolishness mit me," averred Carl, "you bed my life I vill haf somet'ing to say aboudt dot meinseluf. I had some hunches all der time," he harped ruefully.
Brady, Sr., did not come out of the cockpit just then. "There are four of us against you," said he sternly, "and if you've got as much sense as I give you credit for, you'll not resist. All I want of you, Ferral, is your money. If what you told my son is true, your uncle is a rich man. He'll give you another roll for the asking and never miss it. Are you a pard of King's?"
"I'm all that," declared Ferral. "I owe Motor Matt a debt I can never repay."
"And I owe him one I'm going to repay," said Brady, with a black look. "He stole my air ship from me, and I've got to buy it back. It's no more than justice that I take part of the money from you—if you're such a good pal of King's. I didn't think, any more than Hector, that the thing was going to fall out like this, but my luck must be taking a turn for the better."
"Skipper," shouted Ferral, looking at the Norwegian over the heads of the two Bradys, "put about and take us ashore! These scoundrels are trying to rob me."
The skipper, however, only returned a stolid look.