“What do you see?” questioned Pepper, anxiously.
“Some fellows at our clothing! And look, there’s a motor boat!”
“Yes, and tying fast to our sloops!” gasped Fred Century. “Stop, you thieves!” he bawled.
“Let that clothing alone!” commanded Joe, and ran forward with his trowel uplifted as if it was a dagger. “Drop them, I say, or somebody will get hurt!”
His attitude was so fierce that the students from Pornell Academy let the bundles fall and ran back to the motor boat with all speed. Bock was also alarmed, both at the shouts from shore and from the swimmers at a distance, and had shoved off, so the pair had to wade in up to their knees to get on board.
“Going to leave us behind, Roy?” demanded one, angrily.
“No, but we haven’t any time to waste,” said the bully. “Here they come, like a band of wild Indians!”
And Jack and his chums certainly did look like wild men as they rushed along the shore, catching up rocks as they did so.
“Stop, or I’ll hit you with a stone!” called out Pepper, and then let fly a missile that whizzed so close to Roy Bock’s head that the bully dodged. More stones followed, thrown by Jack and the other swimmers and by Joe Nelson, and several students on the motor boat were hit.
“Don’t! don’t!” screamed Will Carey. “You may kill somebody!”