“Ah—ha!” the man finally managed to gasp, as he steadied himself by seizing a slender sapling. “What do you mean, young man? How dare you lay hands on me? I represent the law, I do!”
“Then I’m sorry for the law,” was Blake’s cool response. “What are you doing here, anyhow? Don’t you know that this is private property? These young ladies rent this camping-ground, and you’re as much a trespasser as if they owned it. What are you doing here, anyhow?” and Blake’s voice was stern.
“I’m not going to answer your questions, young man, unless I want to,” the constable fired back. “And you’re doing a mighty risky thing in interfering with the majesty of the law. I am it!”
“Glad you told me,” murmured the lad, “otherwise I might not have known it,” and he laughed.
“Be careful!” warned the constable. “I can arrest you too, if I like!”
“Arrest!” gasped Natalie, who had somewhat recovered her composure at the advent of Blake. The other boys and girls were not in sight.
“Yes, arrest! I thought I’d make you take back-water.”
“I’m not taking back-water, as you call it, at all,” said Blake sharply, “I am merely curious. What do you mean? Once more I ask why you are here? And if you don’t give an account of yourself, I’ll run you off the place,” and Blake looked very much able to do it, a fact, which even gentle Natalie was gladly aware of at that moment.
“Be careful,” needlessly warned Constable Jackson. “I’m here on account of this—it’s my authority,” and again he tapped the nickel star on his coat.
“Authority for what?” snapped Blake.