“Well, you fellows win the race,” said the judge of the contest, with a smile. “Some finish, I’ll say.”
“Won’t all of you come into the bungalow?” asked Gif politely. “No use of starting out in this terrible downpour. It will probably let up in a little while.”
“I think we might as well,” said one of the men present, and everybody marched into the bungalow. Here fire was started, both in the living room and in the kitchen, so that those who wished to do so might dry themselves. Then several pots of hot coffee were made and passed around.
“That touches the spot!” said Ted Maxwell gratefully. “I was quite chilled by that sudden bath after being all overheated from the race.”
“I don’t want any coffee,” grumbled Tommy Flanders. “I want to get back to our camp.” He had determined to make himself as disagreeable as possible.
“We’ll take you over there as soon as the storm lets up a little,” said the man who had the motor-boat in charge.
“It was a mighty nice thing for you fellows to do—to go to our rescue,” remarked Bob Mason to Gif and Jack. “I’ll not forget it. I’m sorry now that we came over here the other day and mussed things up.”
“Well, I guess you got paid back for that,” put in Andy.
“We sure did,” replied Mason, with a grin. And then he added in a whisper: “Several of our fellows wanted to destroy your stuff, but Maxwell and I wouldn’t stand for that.”
The sudden summer storm stopped as quickly as it had begun, and before long the motor-boat departed, carrying the Longley boys to their own side of the lake. On the way the overturned rowboat was picked up and also another one of the floating oars.