“In that case, gentlemen, perhaps it would be well enough not to push us too hard,” coolly observed Frank, as he moved the muzzle of the revolver about in a careless manner. “Just give us time to say something for ourselves.”
“Don’t listen!” cried Rolf, wildly. “They will try to lie out of it, but I saw them spying!”
“Who was the chap that ran away?” asked the leader of the oarsmen, the stroke, whose name was Kent Spencer.
“He was one of them,” asserted Harlow.
“In that case, it is odd we didn’t run away with him,” smiled Frank. “We might have done so, you know.”
“Well, why didn’t you?” asked Spencer.
“Because there was no reason why we should run, and several reasons why we should stay. We can tell you a few things that may surprise you.”
“Don’t listen to their lies!” shouted Harlow. “Pitch them into the river! It’s what they deserve!”
For a moment it seemed that the young oarsmen would obey him. They seemed about to precipitate themselves on the strangers. Again Frank’s coolness caused a delay.
“If you want to souse us in the river after we have made our explanation, you can do so,” he smiled; “but isn’t it well enough to hear what we have to say first?”