With a groan Andy Mosey descended to the ground, and then held his hands over his head.
"Now turn around and march the way you came. And don't you dare to look back," continued the young inventor.
"But, Jack, me dear b'y----"
"I am not your dear boy, Mosey, and I won't stop to parley with you."
"But, Jack, I didn't----"
"Stop it I say, and march. Or do you want to be in the fix Pooler is in?"
"No, no! I'll march, Jack; don't shoot!" And without further ado Andy Mosey set off for the shore, with Jack behind him, and the farm hand bringing up at a safe distance to one side. Presently the farm hand ran ahead, to tell farmer Farrell of how matters now stood.
As soon as the hired man had disappeared Andy Mosey tried to argue again.
"It's Corrigan's doin's----" he began.
"Mosey, we won't talk now," said Jack at last, for he saw that the Irishman's head was not as clear as it might have been. "If you want to argue you can do it when we are in the boat."