“Because I say so,” Betty shot back at him. “And I happen to own that boat.”
“Ah, now, lady,” whined the tall fellow, in a thin nasal voice, while he shifted his position to a more comfortable one, “you wouldn’t disturb two old fellers who are restin’ so pretty, would you now? You look like your heart wuz as kind as your face is pretty.”
At the look that followed these words Mollie stepped forward impulsively, flinging an arm about the Little Captain.
“You great big loafer!” she cried furiously, “you wouldn’t dare say a thing like that if we had a man with us. He--he’d duck you in the river till you were nearly dead.”
“’Twould be a nice cool death to die this kind of weather,” retorted the tall rascal, with his evil grin. “Bring on your hero, lady. We’d like to meet him.”
“Sure,” sneered the other. “Where is the little dear?”
Mollie was about to retort when Betty laid a warning hand on her arm.
“Go over there,” she directed in a whisper, indicating by the barest motion of her hand the tree about which the rope attached to the _Gem_ was wound, “and untie the knot in the rope. Don’t let them see you do it. Leave the rest to me.”
Mollie shot a sharp look at the Little Captain and by the light in her eyes decided that Betty had thought of a plan. She began immediately sidling over toward the tree, but seeing that the eyes of the tramps followed her, she paused and stooped over as though she were tying the lace of her boot.
At the same moment Betty’s voice came to her, clear and sharp as a pistol shot. She looked up and saw that the Little Captain grasped a black, ominous looking, object in her hand.
“It’s a pistol!” Mollie whispered, gaspingly.
Then seeing that the attention of the tramps was diverted from herself, she slipped over to the tree and began deftly pulling out the knot which Betty had put in the thick rope.
“A pistol,” she thought, her heart hammering. “How in the world did Betty get it?”
Meanwhile Betty was getting in a little fine work, the artistry of which the Outdoor Girls did not fully appreciate till afterward.
“Now I think you’ll move,” the Little Captain called to the startled tramps. Her voice was not like Betty’s at all, so thin and metallic it was. There was resolution in that voice, and the tramps knew she meant what she said. “I’ll give you till I count up to ten,” she went on. “Then if you’re not both completely out of sight I’ll try my aim on you. I’m very much in need of a little practice.”