Kingdon smiled at the black-browed fellow.
"You're improving, Horrors," he said. "But we're not going to be swamped. We'll pull through all right."
"You'll never get us safely around to the other side of the island with the wind this way," Kirby shouted.
"Am not going to try," retorted Kingdon, shrugging his shoulders. "But we'll be all right—in time."
"Yes we will!" sneered Ben Comas.
"Drop that, or I'll punch you!" threatened Horace Pence, edging over toward the coward.
"Nice crowd, aren't they?" said Red Phillips, happening to be near Kingdon. "They must get along fine together in that camp up there. Regular happy family, such as you see in the sideshows—what?"
Kingdon laughed and shook the damp hair out of his eyes, for the spray had wet them all pretty thoroughly. Their oilskins had saved the Walcott Hall boys; but the canoeists were saturated above their waists.
"I'd feel better if I co-could get dry," chattered Pudge.
"So say we all of us, Fatty," Cloudman told him. "But no use trying to light the oilstove below. Might set the cabin afire."