It was a pretty sharp retort, but the officer could not repress his amusement at the angry words. Alvin looked over his shoulder and winked at Calvert and Chester, making sure that Mike did not observe the signal. In his impatience, he had turned his back upon them and was looking gloomily over the stern at the foaming wake.
“I wonder if there isn’t some tub along the shore that’ll put out and run us down. I hope, Captain, that whin we git back home ye’ll kaap this a secret from dad.”
“And why?”
“He’ll sure give me the greatest walloping of me life.”
“For what reason?”
“For consoorting wid a party that run away from the finest chance in the wurrld for a shindy. It’s a sin that can be wiped out in no ither way.”
“I’ll explain to him,” said Calvert, “that you couldn’t help yourself.”
“And it’s mighty little difference that will make, as Terry McCarthy said when he had the ch’ice of foighting two Tipperary byes or three Corkonians.”
“Wouldn’t your father prefer to have us bring you home safe and unhurt rather than to have your beauty battered out of you?” inquired the detective, with a solemn visage.
Mike, who had risen to his feet and was still staring over the stern, slowly turned and faced the questioner. Then, with an expression of contempt, he said: