“In every way they could,” the new boy replied. “We stood it as long as we could, and then acted.”
“What did you do to them?” asked Mr. Witherspoon, with an amused smile, for he liked to see these wide-awake lads figure out their own plans, and was greatly interested in listening to their discussions as they worked them out.
“When it became unbearable,” said Rob, gravely, though his eyes twinkled, “we ducked the whole five in a frog pond, and after that they let us alone.”
“Cooled ’em off, eh?” chuckled Josh, whom the account seemed to amuse very much. “Well, that isn’t a bad idea, fellows. Frog ponds have their uses besides supplying messes of delicious frog-legs for eating. Anybody know of a pond that’s got a nice green coating of scum on the top? That’s the kind I’d like to see Tony and his bunch scrambling around it.”
“Oh! the pond will crop up all right when the time comes,” asserted Felix Robbins, confidently; “they always do, you know.”
“But what are we going to do about this thing?” asked Tom, as the chairman of the meeting. “Motions are in order. Somebody make a suggestion, so we can get the sense of the troop.”
“One thing certain,” observed George, “we’ve got to give up the plan we’ve mapped out, and change our programme—or else count on running foul of Tony and his crowd. Which is it going to be?”
A chorus of indignant remonstrances immediately arose.
“Why should we take water when we laid our plans first?” one demanded.
“There are only four of them, all told, while we expect to number ten, perhaps a full dozen!” another scout announced.