“What do you want to go there for?”
“We are going aboard the ore boat Admiral,” replied Ted.
“Scabs, eh?” snarled one of the men, looking at his companions with an “I told you so” air.
“We are not!” declared Phil, emphatically. “We are going to make the trip to Duluth as the guests of Mr. Bronson, of Boston.”
“That’s a pretty good story, but it won’t—” began one of the men, only to be interrupted by another, as, with an expressive wink at his fellows, he said:
“Sure, we’ll show you how to get there. In fact, we’ll take you there, as we are going that way ourselves. Give us some of your bundles. We’ll help carry them.” And he made a grab for Ted’s suitcase.
Acting upon this cue, the other men snatched at the luggage Phil had.
Surprised at the suddenness of the move, the boys had been unable to keep hold of several articles, but as they recovered their wits, they clung to those they still had.
“Get a move on; we can’t stay here all day,” growled one of the men, laying a hand on Ted’s shoulder and shoving him toward a flight of steps that led to the street below.
“I—I think we’ll have breakfast first,” stammered Phil, alarmed at the words and actions of the men. “So just give us back our things, please.”