“What’s the meaning of this!” exclaimed Cotterell. “I invited you to share my wardrobe, not to ransack the house for weapons. Come, will one of you please explain?” Indignation mingled in his tone with surprise.
“There’s a boat off-shore, and her crew is going to land on the beach at the northern point and steal your treasure chest,” said Ben.
“My treasure chest! My silver plate!” Cotterell raised his hand, clenched it into a fist. “Those rascally rebels from Barmouth!”
“I don’t know where they come from,” said Ben. “But we’re going to chase them away.”
“Chase them away?” Cotterell spurned the suggestion. “No, sir. We’ll capture them.”
He looked around at his guests. “Gentlemen, what do you say? Would you like to bag a few robbers?”
There were shouts of approval.
“Not so loud, not so loud,” said Cotterell. He turned to the boys and Tuckerman. “Can you spare us a few of those extra musquetoons, or whatever they are, that you found abovestairs? With those, and the fencing swords in the living-room, and a few other odds and ends, we should do quite nicely. I have a pistol myself. I never go without it in these revolutionary days. Let me see. I left it in the kitchen, in a pot on the shelf, where it would be out of the way.”
The firearms were handed around, and shortly a group of fantastically-garbed people stood in front of the house. The campers and Cotterell and Sampson were to lead the expedition, and some of the ladies insisted on bringing up the rear.
They had not gone far, however, when Sampson suggested a new idea to the others, and after a few minutes’ talk Cotterell’s steward and two of the other men left the main party and turned off in the direction of the creek.