“Look! look!” cried Tom, suddenly, and pointed to a motor boat lying alongside the steam tug.
“Well, I never!” gasped Sam.
The motor boat was a craft of fair size, and very gaudily painted, in red, blue and yellow. It was piled high with suit-cases, bundles and fishing outfits. At the wheel was a tall young man, smoking a cigarette—a stranger to the Rovers. In the bow, also smoking, were two other young men, Jerry Koswell and Bart Larkspur.
CHAPTER XXIII
ABOARD THE MARY DELAWAY
“Hold on there, you!” bawled Jerry Koswell.
“Why, it’s the Rovers!” ejaculated Bart Larkspur. “How did they get here?”
“They are following us, that’s what!” stormed Koswell. “And I won’t have it!”
“What do you want?” asked Dick, as he walked to the end of the tug nearest to the motor boat.
“I want to know what right you’ve got to follow us?” returned Jerry Koswell, sourly.
“Who said we were following you?”