"We'd ought to take it away from them," put in Red Phillips, inclined to feel as Midkiff did.
"Remember they are our guests," drawled Kingdon. "Hands off. We must put them ashore in safety. After that——"
If the truth were told at that moment, Rex would gladly have gone to a clinch with the sneering Pence. There was something about the crass ingratitude of the cheeky fellow that made it hard for Kingdon to restrain himself. Pence and his crew were unbeaten cubs.
But Rex gave his first, and very earnest attention to the sailing of the Spoondrift. She staggered along for an hour, making very heavy weather, and very short legs in her tacking, but finally, the eastern head of Storm Island began to break the wind.
"We're pulling out of it," Red shrieked in Kingdon's ear, for the roar of the nearby surf was now almost deafening.
"By the way," Rex asked of Kirby, "where's your Indian friend?"
"He didn't come out with us."
"Oh! I fancied he might have been drowned. That would have been a sad calamity. I think he has it in for me."
"Maybe he has," Ben said, overhearing this conversation. "But he doesn't dislike you any more than the rest of us do."
"Aw, Ben!" said Pudge MacComber, "I'm sure I'm grateful to Mr. Kingdon and his friends. He may not believe it——"