"You ought to be!" came the answer in another voice, and a surly one, at that.
"Fred Ripley?" muttered Dick. "What on earth can he be doing here?"
Unconsciously all of the picnickers hastened their steps. Then they came upon a truly ludicrous sight.
Fred lay where he had been lying ever since ten o'clock that morning. He was coatless, stretched out face downward, with Towser still camped across his shoulder, and the dog's teeth still fastened in his shirt.
"Come and call this measly dog off!" ordered Fred, in a surly tone. "This is a fine reward that I get for trying to do you fellows a friendly turn!"
Dick, Dave and Tom were the first to get within range and obtain a glimpse of the extraordinary scene. They halted, gasping, though their glances swiftly took in the whole affair. They comprehended what Ripley had been doing, and how the dog had come upon the marauder.
By this time the other members of the party came in sight. Fred still lay on the ground, scowling and fuming over his undignified position, while Towser still kept an eye open for business.
"Call this dog off!" Fred ordered again.
"How did the dog happen to catch you here?" Dick asked quietly.
"Call this dog off and I'll tell you," snapped Fred. "I was trying to do you fellows a good turn, but the dog had to interfere and get hold of the wrong party."