"Don't make any difference. You fellows have got to get off this island."
"Which we refuse to do," Charley said defiantly.
"Amen to that," agreed Captain Westfield, hotly.
"You'll have a hard job making us," chimed in Walter.
Hunter's sallow face reddened with anger. "If you smart Alecks ain't off this island before to-morrow night you'll get what's coming to you," he snarled.
"Look here, Hunter," Charley said, quietly, "it strikes me you are a little bit too anxious to get us to leave here and I think I know the reason. Now you fellows had better get in your boat and go. We want nothing to do with you and your gang. We will tend to our own business and you had better tend to yours. If you bother us any more, well, I know of an officer who would be willing to pay a good big sum to know about a strange craft that haunts this coast in the night, and a motor boat that answers her signals."
It was a chance shot on Charley's part but it went home.
"We wasn't out at all last night," denied Hunter. "We were all in bed, didn't even go fishing."
"I never mentioned last night," said Charley, quickly, and Hunter muttered a curse as he saw the slip he had made.
"You're only doing a lot of wild guessing, and guessing ain't proof," he snarled. "Take all the guesses you want to your officer. He won't do anything. He's got to have proofs."