"If you don't give me back my oar," cried Joel angrily, and paddling for dear life toward them, "it 'll be worse for you, I can tell you. My Grandpapa——"
He was drowned in a storm of yells: "Your granddaddy? Fellows, this baby is talking of his granddaddy," and they screamed in derision, snapping their fingers and swinging the oar as high as they could tantalizingly at him.
Round and round went Joel's boat, describing a series of curves, that despite all his efforts only carried him away from his tormentors. What he would have done, had he reached them, hadn't entered his head, his only thought being to get up to them. In the midst of this interesting proceeding, a sharp clap of thunder reverberated over their heads, to be almost immediately followed by a piercing gleam of lightning. It produced the greatest consternation in the boat-load, and a sudden jump on the part of nearly every boy in it, made it careen, then turn completely over, and before they were fully aware, every single one was in the water, screaming and struggling wildly.
In the upset Joel's oar had been carried out, too; and as it happened to drift toward him, he leaned over the side of his boat, managing to reach it with the other one.
"Don't catch hold of each other," he yelled, his mind intent on helping some of them into his boat. But as well talk to the wind. The boys who couldn't swim—and most of them were in that plight—were grabbing this way and that, to seize upon anything that would give them a support.
"Catch hold of your boat," roared Joel at them. But instead of that, some of them preferred to catch hold of his, the consequence being that it would soon have been upset, had he not screamed at them (and they knew he meant it), "I'll bang you across the head if you try it"—lifting his oar sturdily.
"You fellows who can swim, hold up the others, and I'll take you all off to the bank, if you won't crowd."
And seeing that this was all they could get, and that Joel was as good as his word, one after another was helped in, the others wisely catching hold of the overturned boat—an example speedily followed, till all were either in Joel's boat and rowing quickly off to shore, or hanging to their own craft.
The leader of the crew huddled sheepishly down over his oar, which Joel handed him to do some of the rowing, and he didn't look at the owner of the boat, till, just as they neared the bank, he glanced up suddenly and said:
"Say, you, I s'pose you'll tell on us."