It was evident that Ap did remember perfectly well the fact which Pat referred to, for he did not seem to want to stay any longer in the Irish lad’s vicinity. He picked up his whip, went over to the wagon and climbed in. Then he took out his spite by giving his nag a vicious slash and drove away. But first he doubled up his fist and shook it at the boys, a gesture which they answered with a derisive shout of laughter.
“I think that Ap Plunkit is just horrid,” declared Betty, with a stamp of her little foot.
“I don’t blame him for feeling a little sore,” said Bobby, “especially before he knew I didn’t do it on purpose. But I guess he has a grudge against me anyway.”
“He was just looking for an excuse to make trouble,” put in Fred, “and it was just like him to bring his whip along. He never has played fair yet.”
“He’s got a yaller streak in him, I’m thinkin’,” chuckled Pat, a broad smile covering his jolly face. “I just couldn’t help buttin’ in when I seen him a swingin’ of that whip.”
“You always stand up for your friends, don’t you, Pat?” said Mouser admiringly.
“Sure thing,” grinned Pat. “Especially when they’re the best friends a feller ever had. I’ll never forget what Bobby and Fred have done for me an’ my folks.”
“Oh, that was nothing,” put in Bobby hastily.
“Nothin’!” exclaimed Pat. “It was just everything, an’ there isn’t a day goes by in our house but what we’re talkin’ about it.”
“How did you happen to be Johnny-on-the-spot this morning?” asked Bobby, anxious to change the conversation.