You've only got
thirty gallons of gas and that won't take you far. If you have any sense
you'll pile into your tender and light out while you've got a good
chance."
It was evident that those on the stolen boat had glimpsed Wink's
revolver, for one of the men leaned toward his companion and spoke in
low tones and their eyes sought the port. After a moment the spokesman
replied placatingly. "Maybe you're right, Sport. Guess you've got us
this time. But this ain't any place to go ashore. Tell you what we'll
do. We'll run her back to Gloucester and hand her over to you there.
That's fair, ain't it?"
"It doesn't listen well," answered Steve. "You land on the other side
there and you'll only have to walk a few miles to a train."
"Yeah, walk about six miles across sand dunes in a sun hot enough to
blister you! Nothin' doin', Sport. Take it or leave it."
"Leave it, thanks."
For answer one of the men climbed to the cabin roof and went forward.
"He's going to pull up anchor," warned Joe, peering over the rail.
Steve's voice rang out sharply:
"If you touch that cable we'll shoot!"
The man paused, stared across doubtfully and went on.
"Can you hear me, Wink?" asked Steve softly.
"Yes," came from the after cabin.
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