“Shall we dash at them with our sticks?”
“Let us scare them first—make out we are officers of the law.”
“All right.”
Throwing the sailcloth aside Pepper and Andy leaped to their feet, brandishing the hockey sticks over their heads.
“Surrender, in the name of the law!” shouted the Imp, in the most manly tone he could command.
“Throw up your hands, or we’ll fire on you!” yelled Andy, and pointed the handle of a bailing dipper at Ritter.
“We’re discovered!” screamed Paxton, and dropped the file he was using. “Oh, what shall we do?”
“It’s the police!” faltered Gus Coulter. “We have been trapped!”
“Don’t fire!” gasped Ritter, falling back at the sight of the dipper handle, which gleamed slightly in the starlight. “We don’t mean any harm. This is—er—only a joke.”
“You’ll find it a joke, when you are in the Ithaca jail,” said Andy, in a bass voice.