"Now I'll fix things," Dave and Phil heard the money-lender's son mutter. "Salt in the cream and salt in the layer cakes will do the trick! Some of the boys and girls will think they are poisoned!"
Nat took up a bag of salt that was handy,—used for making the cream,—and proceeded to open the can in the freezer. Dave watched him as a cat does a mouse.
Just as Nat was on the point of dumping some of the salt into the ice-cream he felt himself jerked backwards. The salt dropped to the floor, and Nat found himself confronting Dave, with Phil but a few steps away.
"You contemptible rascal!" cried Dave, his eyes flashing.
"Why—I—er——" stammered the money-lender's son. He did not know what to say.
"Going to spoil the cream, eh?" came from Phil. "It was a mighty dirty trick, Nat."
"On a level with what you did to Professor Potts," added Dave.
"I—er—I wasn't going to do nothing!" cried Nat, with little regard for grammar. "I—er—I was looking at the ice-cream, that's all."
"A poor excuse is worse than none," answered Dave, grimly. "You were going to put salt in the cream and spoil it, you needn't deny it."