“Poor fellow!” thought Charles. “Here he is fretting about those crackers yet! It is mean to play this trick on him, when he is so worried and excited. But then he is male-spirited, as my father says, and I know he would like to get hold of as good a trick himself.”
“Well, Steve, will you go?” Will asked impatiently.
“’Pon my word, I believe Steve has been afraid to get into a boat ever since we were out on the lake!” Jim exclaimed maliciously.
“Don’t stay on my account, bub,” sneered the man in the water-soaked garments. “I shall not be lonely without you.”
Stephen had been recovering his spirits ever since the boys arrived; and Jim’s taunt roused him to anger, while these last outrageous words stung him to the quick.
“Bub!” he repeated to himself. “That’s twice he called me bub! I can’t stand being called that; I never knew a boy that could. Botheration! I’ve a great mind to go with them, after all! They will treat me well, and not bother me, nor call me—no, I won’t say that horrid word again. Well, surely, whatever was in the box, is burnt up now!”
Seeing that Stephen still hesitated, Mr. Sarjent took in the situation, bent a gorgon look on him, and again acted the huffer. “I made a blood-curdling threat a while ago,” he said; “I see I shall have to put it into execution, or else you will have to leave. Go, all of you!”
“My stars, Timor! I’ll show you whether I’m afraid to get into that boat, or to do anything else!” Steve cried, in desperation.
Then he caught up a stick and thrust it into the fire here and there, in spite of the peevish and browbeating stranger’s remonstrances. Of course he saw nothing of the box. Though not quite satisfied,—for it was impossible to get entirely over his uneasiness so quickly,—he stopped with a sharp—
“Boys, I’ll go!”