“How did he come here?”
“You must have slept mighty hard, Bill, or you wouldn’t ask that question,” came from the captain of the schooner. “The whole bunch smashed into us with their motor boat. We don’t know whether they are spies or what they are.” And then the captain continued: “You watch the bunch while I talk it over with the other fellows. I want to be sure of what I’m doing before I let them go.”
The captain walked to the side of the schooner and then went down the rope ladder to one of the small boats. Here he held an earnest conversation with those who had first seen the boys.
“Well, I didn’t expect to see you quite so soon,” remarked Bill Ferguson, with a leer at Jack. “I ought to give you a sound lickin’, that’s what I ought to do!”
“That accident was your own fault, and you know it,” answered Jack, not knowing what else to say. “You have no right to blame me for it.”
“Were you runnin’ the car?”
“No. My uncle was doing that.”
“Well, then, he’s the one, I suppose, I ought to blame.”
“Not at all! It was your own fault.”
“Humph! How did you get here?”