Hal grew so red in the face that Bee feared results and so jumped to his feet. “Let’s—let’s go out and look at them,” he stammered nervously.
“We’ve got a new pair,” exploded Hal, “and I wouldn’t buy those from you, anyway, you—you—”
“That’s so,” cried Jack hurriedly. “We bought a pair yesterday. You see, we went to town after you left us. We bought a boat-hook too, and—and other things.”
“Did ye now?” asked Bill regretfully. “I wish I’d known ye was intendin’ to buy. I could have sold you oars cheap. An’ I’ve got a boat-hook ye might have had too.” He blinked benevolently as he followed them outside. The sun had appeared at last and the mist was rolling inland across the marsh. Hal, almost choking with repressed emotion, was dragged aside by Jack.
“Don’t be silly,” begged the latter. “There’s no use in getting the old chap down on us. There’s no telling what he might do; set fire to the sloop, perhaps, or steal the launch. It doesn’t do any good, Hal.”
“Oh, all right,” muttered Hal, “but those are my oars, and he knows it! And you heard what he just said about the boat-hook!”
“Yes, but it may not be yours, and—”
“It is mine!” He turned suddenly toward Bill Glass. “Say, I might buy that boat-hook if you don’t want too much for it. May I have a look at it?”
“Cert’nly! Cert’nly!” Bill walked over to the shed and fumbled for a moment amongst a pile of stuff on the rafters.