CHAPTER XXI.
SETTLING A POINT.
"Now, fellows," said Frank Merriwell, as he faced his four "shipmates" in the cabin of his yacht, White Wings, which was riding at anchor in the harbor at Green's Landing, "I have called you together for a council of war."
"I'm tired," grunted Bruce Browning. "Can't I rest in my bunk while the powwow is going on?"
"No," came firmly from Frank, "this is a matter of business, and it won't hurt you to sit up a while."
"Oh, get a brace on!" exclaimed Diamond, flinging the words at the big Yale man. "Act as if you had some life in you, old fellow."
The manner in which the words were spoken made the usually polite Virginian seem quite unlike himself, but Bruce simply grinned, observing:
"You shouldn't hold a grudge because I flirted a little with Miss Benjamin, Diamond; you got a lead on me while Merriwell and I were investigating on Devil Island, and won her back, all right. Don't be sour over it."
The Southerner sprang up, his eyes flashing:
"Mr. Browning," he said, hotly, "I warn you not to speak lightly of Miss Benjamin! You seem to take delight in mentioning her in connection with every little occurrence, and it is getting tiresome. There is a limit!"