At first there was no reply, and the boy in the rowboat kept on pulling. But as Dick repeated his call, the rower threw up his oars.
"You mind your own business," he growled. "Guess I can row on the lake if I want to."
"It is Baxter, sure enough!" ejaculated Tom.
"The rascal! We ought to recapture him."
"That's the talk," added Sam. "I wish my wrist wasn't so sore—I'd go after him."
"There's a boat below here," said Dick.
"Let's put out in that."
"He may—may shoot at you," faltered Dora. "You know how wicked he can be at times."
"Indeed I do know," answered Dick. "But he ought to be handed over to the authorities. It is a crime to let him go free."
"Hi, Baxter. Come over here; we want to talk to you!" yelled Tom.