“When he found it before him the next time he bowed his head and this was the grace he said: ‘Of rabbits young, of rabbits old; of rabbits hot, of rabbits cold; of rabbits tender and rabbits tough, I thank the Lord we’ve had enough!’”
“That must have fetched them, all right. Now, if any one puts up a howl here about rice, I’m going to bury the balance of it, mark my words. What ails you, Bluff?” demanded Will, as his companion started half to his knees, and crouching there stared through the leaves of the low-growing trees that concealed the camp from the lake.
“Look yonder, and see! H’sh! not another word!” he murmured.
Will crept to a place beside him, and, finding an opening, also used his eyes to advantage. What he saw would have annoyed any of the boys, considering the fact that they had hoped for a period of peace while camping on Wildcat Island.
A large rowboat was just passing that side of the island. It had come from up the lake somewhere, and was filled with a crowd of rough-looking boys.
“Pet Peters and his crowd again. They gave us all the trouble they could last Fall when we were in camp above the lumber docks, and now they’ve hunted us up again to annoy us,” breathed Will, as soon as he saw who occupied the rowboat. “But Andy Lasher isn’t with them—he’s away on a visit, somebody told me.”
Bluff had reached out and picked up Jerry’s shotgun.
“They seem to be looking in here pretty hard,” continued Will.
“I guess they know we’re here, and they’ve got some mean trick up their sleeve; but possession’s nine points of the law, and we don’t get out to please those rowdies,” said Bluff between set teeth.