"That's a good joke, friend. We've owned this boat three years. Where do you come in?" "She's the _Follow Me_, even if you have painted her name out, and you took her from her anchorage in Plymouth Harbour last night. What's the use of throwing a fool bluff like that?" The man laughed hoarsely and his companion joined him. "Run away, kids!" he said finally. "You're crazy with the heat. This boat's the _Esmeralda_, of Providence, and she belongs to me and this feller. What do you mean, took her? Callin' me a thief, are you?" "I'm not taking the trouble to. If you know what's good for you you'll dig out of there and do it quick." "Is that so?" drawled the man. "Well, ain't that nice? An' supposin' it don't suit me to hand over my boat to you? Then what you goin' to do?" "Take her," answered Steve quietly. "There are twelve of us here and we've followed you all the way from Plymouth, and we aren't likely to let you bluff us off now. Come on, now, what do you say?" "Come on and take her, kids!" was the answer. "We're scared to death!" The men thought that extremely funny, and laughed a lot over it. Just then, Steve, leaning outboard over the railing, felt someone tug at his arm. "Look at the middle port, Steve," whispered Phil. Steve looked. The nearer side of the _Follow Me_ was in shadow, but a quivering beam of sunlight, reflected from the surface of the water, glinted on the muzzle of a revolver held just inside the open port. "Every fellow under cover," said Steve quietly. "That means you, too, Joe. Duck! They've got a gun trained on us. Who's the best shot here?" "Wink," answered Joe. "Give him one of the revolvers. Are you there, Wink?" "Yes," answered the other from the forward companion way. "Get a bead on that middle port. You'll see a gun sticking through there. Don't shoot unless they shoot first. Better go into the other cabin. There's no harm in letting them see you, but don't keep your head exposed. Someone hand me that other revolver." On the other boat Steve's silence was accepted as a confession of indecision and a jeering laugh came across the water. The _Adventurer_ was drifting toward the shore now, and Steve turned and slipped the clutch into reverse and churned back a few yards. Then he faced the men again. "You can't get away with it, you know," he said untroubledly. "We can stay here as long as you can. If you run we'll follow you, and at the first port we'll hand you over to the authorities. 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."