"Ay sure. In the shed, neighbours; you do know the way. My poor Molly!"
"I give you five minutes!" cried Warrender. "Come down to the ferry. I'll wait for you--five minutes only."
He hurried out, followed by Rogers. The younger men among the rest, bestirring themselves at last, went round the inn into the garden. Within five minutes a group of seven, armed with hoe, rake, spade, mattock, fork, fowling-piece, and coal-hammer, was gathered on the landing-stage.
"Squeeze into the boat," said Warrender. "I'll run you down and land you opposite No Man's Island. You must pack tight."
"'SQUEEZE INTO THE BOAT.'"
They crowded into the boat. Warrender opened the throttle. A shriek was heard, and Mrs. Rogers came flying out of the inn, flourishing her husband's wig.
"Joe, you gawkhammer, you've left your hair behind."
"Make it into a stew and be jowned to it!" shouted Rogers, as the boat hummed away.
Landing on the bank opposite the cottage, the party hurried through the plantation, Warrender taking the lead.