"Guilty conscience!" laughed Prescott. "There's the sloop putting about at
once and heading away from us."
"They can't get away from us, in this light wind," chuckled the young chief
engineer.
A few minutes later the "Morton" came up within easy hailing distance of
the sloop, aboard which only one man now appeared.
"Sloop ahoy!" called the policeman. "What are you doing in these waters?"
"Looking for a good fishing ground," answered the dark-faced man at the
tiller.
"Then you're too far in by some three miles," answered the policeman.
"Thank you, cap'n," acknowledged the sailing master of the sloop.
"You're welcome," the policeman continued, "but ease off your sheet and
lay to. We want to come aboard."
"You can't!" flatly retorted the skipper.
"You're wrong there," retorted the policeman. "This is a police party,
and I tell you that we are coming aboard. Lay to, or we shall have to
start a lot of trouble for you."
In the policeman's hand suddenly glistened a revolver. Tom ran the motor
boat close alongside. With a snarl the man left off his sheet. The
policeman and Dick Prescott leaped aboard the craft, Tom and Harry
following.
"This is a cheeky outrage!" snarled the skipper, scowling at the invaders.
Pages:
163
164
165
166
167
168
169
170
171
172
173
174
175
176
177
178
179
180
181
182
183
184
185
186
187