“Right pert boat you’ve got there,” he said, at last.
“Never mind the boat now,” Alex answered. “She’s drifting downstream every minute. Tow her to shore and help me to get this net out of the propeller.”
“So it’s a net in the propeller, is it?” snarled the man from the houseboat. “I hope you hain’t gone and took up my net.”
“Did you have a net out in the river?” asked the boy.
“I certainly did!” was the reply. “And if you’ve gone and cut it up, you’ll pay for it.”
Alex knew very well that the man from the houseboat had never owned a net of the value of the one he had destroyed, but he decided to have no words with the fellow until the _Rambler_ was ready to proceed on her journey. He saw that the man was evidently seeking a quarrel.
“Yessir!” the riverman went on. “If you’ve gone and cut up my net you’ll pay me a good price for it. There’s too many of you sports romping up and down the river with your gasoline boats.”
“Time enough to talk about that when we get the boat over to the shore,” Alex declared. “I don’t want to drift downstream any farther.”
Scowling and complaining over the exertion required, the fellow finally managed to work the _Rambler_ into the mouth of the creek where the houseboat lay. As Alex took in the situation at one quick glance, he saw two evil-faced fellows lounging on the deck of the houseboat.
“What you got, Mose?” one of them called out to the riverman.
“I’ve salvaged a motor boat!” was Mose’s reply.
“What’s the trouble with her?” was the next question.
“She’s got my net wound around her propeller!” answered Mose.
“Sho’,” returned the other. “That new net of yours that cost a hundred not a week ago?”
“Yessir, that same new net!” returned the riverman.
Alex saw that the men were preparing to make trouble for him. He knew that they could not collect a cent of salvage for towing his boat out of the stream. He was positive that the net did not belong to them. Houseboat people of their class consider themselves fortunate in the possession of ordinary fishing lines and spears.
However, he only smiled as they talked of their hundred-dollar net, and dropped over into the shallow water of the creek to inspect the damage done to the propeller and rudder.
So far as he could see, there was nothing broken. The net which was wound about everything at the stern of the boat seemed to him to make a bundle as large as a whiskey barrel. He took out his knife preparatory to cutting it away.