“No, but you’re thinking it was this boat that hit yours. Oh, I heard you boys whispering! Well, get this straight! You better not go to Mr. Manheim with your complaints.”
“I’m sorry if I said anything to offend,” Midge replied, his voice stony. “To tell you the truth, I did think maybe it was his boat that struck ours in the dark. If I’ve made a mistake I apologize.”
“You sure made a mistake, kid. Now get going all of you! I want to fill this gasoline tank and get back to Skeleton Island.”
Embarrassed by the reprimand, the three Cubs took themselves to the club where they sat on the veranda drinking cokes.
“I sure made the old boy sore,” Midge said between sips of the iced drink. “I never intended to accuse him or say anything about the accident. He snapped me up so fast.”
“Almost as if he had a guilty conscience,” Dan agreed. “Maybe he heard about the accident here at the club the way he said. Then again, maybe he didn’t.”
“Those scratches on the boat weren’t very deep,” Midge said thoughtfully. “All in all, I guess I’d better not exercise my gums too much over the thing. Dad wouldn’t like it.”
Brad, who had been scanning the morning paper while his companions talked, now uttered a startled snort.
“Say, will you look at this!” he exclaimed, tapping a front page news story. “Guess what happened last night?”
“Break it to us gently, Brad, my boy,” Midge laughed.