“Vait!” gurgled Hans, who was getting out of breath. “You can’t kept oop mit me uf I hurry so, can I?”
“You had better keep back, anyway,” said Bruce. “They will hear you if you come lumbering up to the cottage they are in.”
“Who toldt you so?” squawked the Dutch boy. “How vos id I knew so much apout your pusiness? You make me haf dot tired veelings, Misder Prowning!”
“Bruce is right,” said Frank. “You had better keep back, Hans. There may be a fight, and you will get in the way.”
“A vight!” gasped Hans. “Oxcuse me! I vos nod a scrappers! I vill sot down und vait dill you got pack here.”
Then he proceeded to sit down at the foot of a tree, leaning against it. The others hurried on. They left Camp Benson and continued up the shore to a small cove.
“There is the cottage,” said Bruce, pointing out one that stood back by itself amid the trees.
“It looks deserted,” observed Frank.
“That is because they have closed the door, and put the shutters to the windows.”
“But how are we to look in?”