"Some of that crowd think we're sillies for staying out here, don't they, Steve?" Bandy-legs asked, after a little time had elapsed, without their sighting any more precious cargoes coming down on the flood.
"Yes, I heard a lot of 'em say things that way, because they've got a notion in their heads the bridge is agoin' out any old minute. But there's another lot that don't believe shucks. I heard one boy say there wasn't a bit of danger, and that we got all the credit of being mighty reckless and brave without taking any big risk."
"Bet you I can give a guess who that was," ventured Bandy-legs, instantly.
"Let's hear, then," Steve told him.
"It sounds like that braggin' Shack Beggs," was the guess Bandy-legs hazarded.
"Go up head, old scout," chuckled Steve; "because you hit it the first shot. Yes, that's who it was, Shack Beggs, and both the other bullies were along with him, watching everything we did out here, and looking like they'd be mighty well pleased if the old bridge did break loose and carry us all down river, hanging on like a parcel of half drowned rats."
"I wouldn't put it past them to help things along, if only they knew how they could start the bridge loose," Bandy-legs affirmed, positively, which showed what sort of an opinion he had for the trio of tough boys whom they had chased off, at the time they were robbing poor old Mr. McGirt, who kept the little candy shop that had been invaded by the rising waters.
"L-l-lucky for us they d-d-don't know h-h-how," said Toby, vigorously.
"It seems that when you get to talking about any one they're almost sure to appear," Max told them; "and look who's coming out on the bridge now."
"Why, it's Shack Beggs, sure it is!" declared Steve.