"Fer sale?" repeated the spokesman of the quartet, all four of whom seemed to exchange among themselves a round of sinister glances. "Well, I guess nit. They ain't enough money this side o' the United States treasury to buy this island from us."
"We might be able to scrape up a handsome sum, if necessary," Hal reasoned.
A suggestion of covetous greed shone in the eyes of all four men, but the spokesman belied his own looks by saying:
"Nothin' doing. We want you guys to git out o' here. This is our summer resort, eh, Spike"—turning to the long-armed, deep chested man.
"Spike" nodded grimly and replied:
"You bet it is, cap'n. We're gen'lemen of leisure an' don't care fer money. All we want is our own, and they's sure to be trouble if anybody tries to take it away from us."
"Well, we don't want anything that doesn't belong to us," was Bud's reassuring answer; "and if this island is yours, we surely don't want to stay here. But we thought that maybe you'd be glad to sell, for a member of our party said he'd like to buy all of the islands of this group if he could find the owner."
"Who is he?" asked the quartet's spokesman.
"His name is Perry and he lives at Oswego, New York," Bud replied.
"Well, you all go somewheres else to talk that matter over and then take it up with my real estate agent. Meanwhile I don't allow no trespassers on this ground."