“Now, what do you suppose that is?” he asked.
In a moment, Jack’s eyes rested on the object, too.
“It’s a boy!” he said. “A boy all right enough, and it’s peaches to prunes that he’s the chap who’s been playing villain ever since we came into the mountains. I wish he had with him the rope that he will eventually be hanged with.”
“Hush!” replied Frank with a grimace. “Keep it dark! Don’t you ever tell him that he’s going to be hanged. If you do, he won’t ever help us out of this blooming old punch bowl.”
The boy stood looking down into the bowl for a moment, listening to the shouts for assistance which the boys now sent up, made a few quick signals, and turned away.
As the reader understands, the assistance Norman sought to give the boys could best be rendered by seeking their friends and informing them of the situation. Jack and Frank were, of course, greatly enraged at the boy’s seemingly heartless desertion of them.
“Now what do you think of that for a cold-blooded reptile?” demanded Jack. “That fellow certainly is the limit!”
“You just wait,” Frank shouted, almost dancing about in his anger, “you just wait till I get my hands on that gink. I’ll change his face so his friends won’t know him. The idea of his going off and leaving us in such a fix as this!”
“It’s rotten!” Jack agreed.
“Rotten?” echoed Frank, “it’s worse than rotten! It’s stinking mean!”