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Cody, H. A. (Hiram Alfred), 1872-1948

"Rod of the Lone Patrol"

The captain again looked upon them from
his concealed position and saw them straining their eyes in an effort
to locate their boat.
"She's gone adrift," one of them exclaimed. "Why didn't ye tie her?"
and he turned angrily upon his companion.
"It was as much your business as mine," was the retort. "Ye always
blame me fer everything. But it's no use wranglin' over it now. We've
overslept ourselves, and a pretty mess we're in. If we don't get that
boat we're stuck on this island."
"Maybe she's drifted along the shore somewhere," the other suggested.
"There's been no wind, so she can't be far away."
"There's a tide, though, which is just as bad. This is a mess, sure."
"Well, talkin' won't do any good," his companion replied. "I'm goin'
to hunt along the shore."
He had taken but a step when a deep voice from above startled him,
causing him to pause and look quickly up. As he did so, his face
underwent a marvellous change of fear and rage, for there was the
captain, looking calmly along the barrel of his rifle.
"Stay jist where ye are," was the imperative order. "If one of yez
move, I'll shoot quicker'n blazes. Yer boat's all right, so don't
worry about her."
A stream of angry oaths now leaped from the robbers' lips, as they
realised the helplessness of their position.


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