"Well, so were you. But we didn't try any wild Indian game on you just on that account."
"Good reason why. You didn't see us," crowed the one on top, giving
Dave a vigorous poke in the ribs to emphasize the point.
That was too much for Dave. His usual good nature had been oozing out with every passing second. Now he gave a sudden twist, heaved, turned, heaved again, and in less time than it was told, was on his feet and presenting a pair of promising looking fists to the two others who had quickly come to their comrade's assistance.
"Hold on a minute," suggested the one they had called Phil. "Let's get the straight of this thing first and fight afterwards. You say you don't belong on the island?" he asked, turning to Dave.
"We certainly don't. We were trying to get onto it without being seen.
That's why we were skulking along that way."
"Trying to get onto it? You haven't any boat."
"We could swim, couldn't we?"
"But what do you want to get onto the island for? Where are you from, anyhow?"
"None of your particular business," snapped Dave, but Jerry answered as well as he could with his shortness of breath—he too was "stomached" by a stout boy of his own size:
"Watertown."