“Yes,” said the young major cheerily. “I guess we got here just in the nick of time, didn’t we?”
“Maybe you did.”
“What’s the row about?” questioned Pepper innocently, but with a side wink at Andy and Dale.
“About? They tied us up in bags, and——” began Paxton, when a cold look from Reff Ritter stopped him. “I mean—er—they——”
“Never mind what it was about,” growled Ritter.
“Tied you up in bags, did they?” said Andy. “That was hard luck sure. How did you escape?”
“I cut my way from the bag with my pocketknife,” said Coulter, ignoring Ritter’s look. “Those fellows——”
“Say, can’t you keep it to yourself?” demanded the bully of the Hall sourly. He was afraid Jack and his chums would laugh at him and those who had suffered with him.
“Ritter, you needn’t tell us anything,” said the young major, drawing himself up, stiffly. “We did what we could for you, but we don’t expect either your confidence or your thanks.” He turned to his chums. “Come, fellows, I fancy we are not wanted here,” and he turned and walked in the direction of Putnam Hall, with Pepper and the rest at his heels. Each boy wanted to laugh but each managed to keep a straight face until a safe distance was covered. Then Pepper had to roll on the ground and roar, and Andy did the same.
“Oh, Jack!” panted The Imp, when he felt able to speak. “That was the richest yet—what you said—‘We did what we could for you, but we don’t expect your thanks!’ Gracious, I thought I’d die when you said it!”