"We ought to warn 'em off with a shot-gun," growled Tom. "Even if they don't hit us, they haven't any right to make my hair stand up like quills on the fretful porcupine."
"Vot has der porkerpint to do mit your hair?" questioned Hans innocently.
"You'll soon find out—if that lumber raft hits us, Hansy. Got your life insured?"
"Mine life insured?"
"That's it. If you haven't, better take out a policy for 'steen dollars and some cents, payable at nine cents a week in advance."
"Tom, this is no joking matter," broke in Dick. "Be quiet, till I use the megaphone."
"Dot's it!" cried Hans. "Use dot magnify-phone by all means."
There was a fair-sized megaphone on the houseboat, used to call to persons on shore, if necessary, and, bringing this out, the eldest Rover placed it to his mouth.
"On board the lumber raft!" he shouted at the top of his lungs. "Sheer off! Don't run us down!"
"We are not running you down," was the surly answer from a man at the front of the raft.