“That’s right, Tommy!” chuckled Paul Halliday. “Give ’em a whole lot of wash! Soak ’em good!”
“That’s what I’m going to do,” hissed Flanders through his set teeth. And then he drove the motor-boat still closer.
“Get away from there! Get away from there!” was the cry from one of the motor-boats that was trying to keep the course clear.
“Go to grass!” muttered Billy Sands. “Drive her in, Tommy! Give ’em all the wash you can!”
“You’ll hit their oars, you young fool! Keep away from there,” suddenly yelled old Nat Durgin, and then he tried to push Tommy Flanders away from the wheel.
“Let me alone!” said Flanders, and began to struggle.
Nat Durgin’s blood was up. He did not like Flanders or his cronies any too well, and they had beat him down in the price to be paid for the use of the motor-boat. Without ceremony the old man slapped Flanders heavily in the face, then shut off the motor and turned the craft out into the lake.
“That’s the stuff, Durgin!” shouted a man from one of the boats lying nearby. “Throw that young fool overboard!”
“That’s right! Give him a bath!” came from another boat.