“The night-riders want ten or twelve cents a pound for their tobacco, and the planters on the lower lands near the river are willing to sell theirs for five or six cents a pound, because they can raise more crops a year and because their land is easier tilled.”
“And so they’re getting up a combination in restraint of trade, eh?” laughed Alex. “That seems to be the proper thing to do.”
“I don’t know about that,” Jule went on, “but they’re trying to equalize prices by reducing the supply. Whenever these river planters get nice big warehouses packed full of the weed, the night-riders make their appearance in the dark of the moon and burn them down.”
“This night-rider business was all right ten or fifteen years ago,” Clay insisted, “but I don’t believe there’s anything doing in that line now.”
“Then what are all these men out with their horses for?” demanded Jule.
“Yes, and why did they lug us off to a farm house, and lock us up until some one sent word that we wasn’t spies?” Case demanded.
The boys now turned their attention to the old negro who stood on a little elevation at the back of the cove sniffing suspiciously at the air.
“Where did you get that coon?” asked Case.
“He brought our boat down the river to us,” laughed Alex.
“If he hadn’t, we wouldn’t be eating tinned goods would we?” asked Clay.
“Why, you might get those out of the _Rambler_,” Case ventured. “That was a joke about the pirates getting the motor boat, wasn’t it?”
“Indeed it wasn’t!” Alex replied gravely, and in a short time the story of the boys’ morning adventures was told.
“Now, that’s what I call rotten!” Jule cried out. “And I move that we get to a telegraph office somewhere and notify some central point from which all the police boats on the river can be notified of what has been done. We’ve got to get the boat back!”
“I don’t like to call out the state troops,” Clay grinned. “We got into this scrape, and I want to get out of it without any help from the officers if possible. Uncle Zeke thinks he can take us to the _Rambler_ to-night, and we’re going to wait here until the edge of the evening and make the attempt.”
“What’s the matter with Uncle Zeke?” asked Case. “He stands up there snuffing the air as if he smelled more chicken.”