His right hand shot out; he seized Bob Somers' rifle, and wrested it from his grasp.
"Jump in, Joe," he cried. "Here goes!"
He leaped aboard the "Spray," and "Surly Joe" instantly followed. The boat had been straining and tugging, with but one rope left to hold her, and this Joe Tomlin instantly cast off.
The boys were entirely unprepared for such sudden action, and their indignation was thoroughly aroused as the "Spray" slowly drifted away from the wharf, and "Surly Joe" was seen hauling up the sail.
"I'll teach yer not ter be gittin' gay with me," cried Dugan. "When yer apologizes, ye gits back yer old shootin' iron, an' not before. I'll show you—an' that fat elephant, too."
"After them in the 'Speedy,' fellows," cried Bob.
"That's the idea!" yelled Dick.
But the boys, in their excitement and hurry, proceeded to prove the truth of the old saying, "The more haste, the less speed." Nothing went right. Tommy Clifton fell down and bumped his nose; the ropes were stubborn—one of them got wedged in a crack on the wharf, and Bob, impatient at the delay, cut it loose.
"Pile aboard, fellows!" he cried.
A strong wind was blowing, and the "Spray," headed for Promontory Island, had a good start.