BETWEEN FIRE AND WATER.
Matt's position in the boat enabled him to watch one dark bank of the
river as they glided down toward the lake. He was listening and looking
for some sign of life on the bank. Had he seen any one, a shout would
quickly have apprised the person of the prisoner's predicament.
But Matt saw no one. Steadily the _Sprite_ glided onward--steadily, but
covering so crooked a course that Matt wondered they did not drive into
the bank on one side or the other.
The lake was reached. The storm promised by the late afternoon was
slow in coming. The wind was no higher than it had been, two or three
hours before, but the waves were beating sullenly on the rocks as if in
warning of what was to come.
Far across the lake Matt could see the glare of city lights. Because of
his position in the boat, the other shore of the lake was not visible
to him.
He was looking for other boats, but there were very few boats on the
lake at the time. He saw one moving light, however, and essayed a lusty
call for help.
Ross swore savagely.
"Clap a hand over that cub's mouth!" he snapped.
At the same instant he jerked one hand from the wheel, caught up the
lantern, and dropped it overboard.
Kinky, meanwhile, had forced his hands over Matt's lips.
The light Matt had seen had shifted its position, and was gliding
toward the _Sprite_.
"Hello, there!" called a voice from the dark.
"Hello, yourself," flung back Ross.
"Did you hail us?"
"No."
"I thought some one yelled. What became of your light?"
"A lubber here with me knocked it overboard."
"Well, you'd better get out another. If you take my advice, you won't
stay out long, either. There's nasty weather coming, and we're making
for our berth over at the asylum."
Ross allowed this warning to go unanswered. The light of the other boat
dwindled away and vanished in the gloom.
"This is far enough, I reckon," Ross remarked, halting the _Sprite_.
"You can leave him alone now, Kinky," he added. "He could yell till
he's black in the face and no one would hear him; but, if he knows
what's good for him, he won't whoop it up while we're close to him.
Pull the rowboat up alongside, Kinky."
Ross lifted the hood and leaned down into the space reserved for the
motor and the gasoline tanks.
"Confound it!" he exclaimed, lifting himself erect, "I wish I had that
lantern now."
He continued to grumble and work around in the bow of the boat. At last
he finished his labor, whatever it was, and turned to Kinky.
The latter was holding the rowboat alongside the launch. The task was
none too easy, as the swell was bumping the boats together and then
forcing them apart.
"What am I to do, Ross?" asked Kinky. "I can't hang on here much
longer."
"Get into the rowboat and take the oars," ordered Ross.
"Ain't you going along with me?"
"Sure, when I get through."
"What's your game?"
"Never you mind," was the angry retort. "It's my game, from now on,
and you'll watch and do as you're told. Get into the boat and hold her
close to the _Sprite_ with the oars. When I want you I'll let you know.
Mind your eye when you change or you'll find yourself at the bottom of
the lake."
Kinky made three attempts to get from one boat into the other. At the
last attempt he came near swamping the rowboat, and when he drew back
and clung panting to the side of the _Sprite_ the rowboat had got away
from him.
Ross shouted his maledictions.
"What can you expect of a fellow workin' like this in the dark?"
grunted Kinky. "I ain't no sailor, anyway."
"You got feet and hands, haven't you? Then why don't you use 'em?"
With this retort, Ross started the motor and laid the _Sprite_
alongside the rowboat once more.
"Now," he ordered, "try it again, Kinky. If you get a spill you'll stay
in the lake for all of me."
Kinky's next effort was more successful. He had a narrow escape, but he
finally plumped down into the bottom of the rowboat, righted himself
unsteadily, and got on the 'midships thwart. A moment more and he had
shipped the oars.
"Now what?" he demanded.
His own temper was beginning to rise at the rough, and perhaps
unnecessary, work he had been made to do.
Ross had again switched off the power of the motor and the launch was
rolling in the waves.
"Wait, and I'll tell you," answered Ross.
He was lashing the steering wheel with a piece of rope. Kinky could not
see what he was doing, or he would probably have ventured some remarks.
Matt, however, was able to follow the scoundrel's movements, and a
vague alarm ran through him.
"What are you up to, Ross?" asked Matt sternly.
Ross snarled at him, but did not make any response that could be
understood.
"I suppose you could get at this wheel, bound as you are," muttered
Ross, turning around, at last, and facing Matt. "But I'll fix that," he
added with a brutal laugh.
Making his way to where Matt was lying, he caught him by the shoulders
and dragged him roughly forward.
"What are you doing this for?" demanded Matt.
Ross was strong, and, without deigning a reply, he heaved the helpless
youth up onto the hood. Bound as he was, Matt's position was precarious
in the extreme.
"I never thought you were such a scoundrel, Ross," Matt said quietly.
"It can't be you're going to leave me like this."
"You wait till I get through," was the fierce answer.
By craning his head around, Matt could see Ross pick up a pile of
waste. From the pungent odor of gasoline which assailed Matt's nostrils
he knew that the waste had been soaked in the inflammable stuff.
Ross carried the waste back into the stern of the boat.
"You like motors, King," called Ross, "and I'm going to give you such a
ride on a motor-boat as you never had before. I hope you'll enjoy it."
"For the last time, Ross," called Matt, horribly conscious of the trend
the scoundrel's work was taking, "I ask you to think of what you are
doing."
"I've thought of it all I'm going to. It's a fine plan, and I'm going
to carry it right through to a finish."
Ross turned to the rowboat, which Kinky was keeping close to the
_Sprite_.
"Come alongside, Kinky," Ross called. "I'm about ready to be taken off."
"What have you been doin', Ross?" demanded Kinky, pulling the other
boat closer.
Matt felt, at that moment, as though Kinky was his only hope.
"He's got me tied here on the hood, Kinky," Matt called, "and he's
going to fire the boat! If you let him keep on, you'll be equally
guilty with him, and the law will sooner or later take care of you
both."
"Let him talk!" exclaimed Ross. "Much good it'll do him. A little more
to the left, Kinky."
The man in the rowboat had turned to look.
"Is that him on that forward deck, Ross?" asked Kinky.
"That's where I put him."
"Blazes! Why, he's liable to roll off into the water and be drowned.
What did you put him there for?"
"I told you I was attendin' to this," retorted Ross. "Get that boat
alongside here, and be quick about it."
"But I'm not goin' to stand for any----"
"You're going to do as I tell you. Get alongside."
Kinky, unfortunately for Matt, had the weaker will of the two. He was
plainly afraid of Ross, and the latter could bullyrag him into doing
anything.
As the rowboat came up, Ross leaned over and grabbed the painter.
Securing the end of it to the driver's seat of the launch, he stepped
back into the stern, struck a match, and dropped it into the heap of
waste.
A fire leaped upward instantly, and a yell of consternation broke from
Kinky.
"Ross, you're mad! You want to make a swinging job of this for both of
us, I guess. Put out that blaze or I'll put it out myself."
Ross did not reply. Hastening forward again, he started the motor, and
the _Sprite_ began driving ahead, hauling the rowboat with it.
"This course, Motor Matt," said Ross, "will carry you direct to Maple
Bluff. I hope you'll have a comfortable landing. Good-by, and good luck
to you! Have I paid my debts? Think it over."
Whirling swiftly, Ross clambered into the rowboat.
"I'll not stand for this!" yelled Kinky. "This may be your idea of
paying your debts, but----"
Ross pushed Kinky backward, sending him sprawling across the 'midships
thwart.
"Get up and take the oars," he cried. "Pal of mine though you are, if
you try to make me any more trouble something will happen to you. I've
got the bit in my teeth, I tell you, and I'll settle for Motor Matt as
I think best."
Ross leaned forward and slashed the blade of his pocketknife through
the painter, and a hoarse laugh echoed in Motor Matt's ears as the
burning launch leaped away through the thick shadows.