“Not perzactly. But he’s likely ter be a convic’ arter I git him,” and he chuckled, hoarsely.
“Well, this island is posted. We have a permit to camp here, but I don’t believe you have any warrant for landing at all,” said Bobby, sharply. “And my father, who is one of the directors of the Rocky River Lumber Company, certainly does not want a pack of hounds like those, running the game on this island—out of season, too.”
“This ain’t that kind o’ game, young lady,” 195 said the sheriff, slowly. Then he stopped. A figure had suddenly appeared from the wood. It was a shabby but commanding figure, and the girls themselves shrank together and waited for the old Latin professor to speak.
“Miss Hargrew is quite right,” said Professor Dimp, in his iciest tone. “Those hounds must not land here.”
“I say, now!” growled the sheriff.
“This is private property,” continued Professor Dimp, coldly, “as Miss Hargrew tells you. You can see the signs. You will trespass here if you are determined. But I warn you that if you bring those dogs ashore you will be prosecuted.”
“I’m a-goin’ to search this islan’,” growled Sheriff Larkin, uglily.
“You may. You have no warrant to do so, but you may. But you must not bring ashore those dogs. And,” added the professor, turning and bowing with old-fashioned courtesy to Mrs. Morse, “you must keep away from the camp where this lady and her young charges are ensconced.”
He turned on his heel in conclusion, and walked into the woods again.
“Three rousing cheers!” whispered Bobby under her breath. “What’s the matter with Old Dimple? He’s all right!”