But Joel was just in his element, and when he brought the rest off from the overturned boat, he couldn't conceal his satisfaction.
"Some one has got to tell about that boat." He pointed to the overturned one.
"I knew you would blab." Mike turned, his shame disappearing, to grow red with passion.
"Shut up." It was the other boy that roared at him, who, injured arm or not, could somehow inspire the former leader with fear. "I'm going to tell myself; an' if any of you fellows has got spunk, he'll tell, too." It was such a battle cry that Mike's head went down. He knew as well as afterward that his leadership was gone, and that every one of the crew had gone over to the other boy.
"Hi—yes, we'll tell." If Jack, their new leader, could decide to, they would follow him, and they yelled it out much better than any one would suppose possible after their fright, turning their backs on Mike.
"That's good," said Joel, bobbing his black curls, from which the rain was streaming, at the whole bunch of boys in approval, and taking up his oars he prepared to move off. "If you'll only tell about the boat."
"Oh, I say"—Jack seeing that he was now the recognized leader, was going to do the whole thing up in good shape—"we're much obliged, and who are you, anyway?" he broke off awkwardly.
"I'm Mr. King's grandson," said Joel "Well, good-bye."
"Mr. King's!" Jack gave a roll over and groveled in the wet moss. "Oh, it's all up with us, fellows," he groaned. The black dog, who belonged to him, came and licked him all over, glaring between whiles at Joel, as if he were the cause of the whole trouble. The bunch of boys said nothing, but shivered in silence.
"Well, good-bye," said Joel, as he pushed off, feeling it necessary for some one to speak, "and I hope you haven't hurt your arm much," to the recumbent figure.