"By jinks! He has got a gun!" whispered Sam, as he caught a glint of the polished barrel. "The villain!" "Baxter, you are playing a foolish game," answered Dick. "What do you intend to do with Dora Stanhope?" "That's my business. I shan't harm her--if you'll promise to leave me alone." "Did you run off with her on Crabtree's account?" "It's none of your business," put in Mumps, who had just returned to the deck, after making sure that Dora should not get away from Mrs. Goss again for the time being. "It is my business." "You're awfully sweet on her, ain't you?" "Do you know it's a State's prison offense to abduct anybody?" "I haven't abducted anybody. She came of her own free will--at first. It's not my fault if she's sick of her bargain now." "I don't believe a word you say." "Do as you please. But are you going to keep off or not?" "We'll not keep off." "Then I'll fire on you." "If you do so, we'll fire in return," said Sam. "Maybe we can scare him too," he added, in a whisper. "I don't believe you've got any weapon," came from Mumps, in a voice that the toady tried in vain to steady. If there was one thing Mumps was afraid of it was a gun or a pistol. "Try us and see," said Tom. Then he raised his voice. "Harris, bring up that brace of pistols you said were in the locker." "All right," answered the sailor, catching at the ruse at once; and he hurried below, to return with two shining barrels, made of the handles of a dipper and a tin pot. He held one of the tin barrels out at arm's length. "Shall I fire on 'em now?" he demanded at the top of his voice. "Don't!" shrieked Mumps, and dropped out of sight behind the mainmast of the _Flyaway_. The toady had scarcely uttered the word when a loud report rang out, and a pistol bullet cut its way through the mainsail of the _Searchlight_. Baxter had fired his gun, but had taken good care to point the weapon over the Rover boys' heads. The bully now ran for the cabin, expecting to receive a shot in return, but of course it did not come. By this time the two yachts were almost side by side and running along at a high rate of speed. Harris got out his boathook to catch fast to the _Flyaway_, when a cry from Tom made him pause. "Help me! Don't leave me behind!" "Great Caesar!" gasped Sam. "Tom's overboard!" "Down with the mainsail!" roared Harris. "How did he fall over the side?" "He tried to jump to the other boat," said Dick, who had seen the action. "I was just thinking of doing it myself." With all possible speed the big sheet of the _Searchlight_ was lowered, and then they turned as fast as the wind would permit, to the spot where unlucky Tom was bobbing up and down on the swells like a peanut shell. "Catch the line!" cried Dick, and let fly with a life preserver attached to a fair-sized rope. His aim was a good one, and soon Tom was being hauled aboard again with all possible speed.