"Mad, are they, and at us?" repeated Jack, as he began to gasp the situation. "And do you happen to know if they mean to slip away again, like they did a couple of nights ago?"
Jimmie shrugged his shoulders in his knowing fashion. Probably he also winked, though Jack failed to catch this part of the performance.
"Wan of thim do be for slippin' off, and showin' a clane pair of heels; but the other sames to be a wicked sort. He swipes his fist jist so," making a furious gesture as he spoke, "and will be hanged if he goes till he taches thim silly fools a lesson."
"Meaning us, I suppose?" Jack asked, softly.
"Nothin' else, me laddybuck. I heerd him say as how burnin' our boat wouldn't be too harrd a job; or tyin' the both of us till the trees here, and lavin' us to shout till we got black in the face. Ugh! he's sure a divvle, all right, is that smooth-faced young thafe of the worrld. And I'd loike nothin' betther than to be turnin' the tables on him, so I would."
"Well," said Jack, quietly, "perhaps you may, Jimmie."
Jack Stormways was ordinarily a peaceful lad. All his schoolmates were agreed on that score. And yet once he felt that he had been unjustly treated he would fight at the drop of the hat.
They had done nothing to injure these two young rascals; and if let alone the chances were Jack would never have gone out of his way to inform the public officials as to what he knew about the robbers of the Waverly bank.
But when he heard that they were planning to do him and his comrade an ugly turn, something within seemed to rise up in rebellion. If they wanted war to the knife they could have it.
"Whirra, now, an' do ye mean that, Jack, darlint?" demanded Jimmie.