Georgie looked in the direction of Dick’s finger, and read the words, “‘Martha,’ Thomas White, Templeton” on the stern of the boat.
Both boys whistled. Then Dick marched resolutely up to the bows, over a thwart in which the anchor rope was hitched in a loop.
“Tom White must have been drunk when he anchored this boat,” said Dick. “She’ll never hold if the wind gets up.”
“Good job, too,” said Heathcote.
“So I think,” said Dick, thoughtfully. “I say, Georgie,” added he, with his fingers playing on the end of the loop, “Tom White’s a frightful cad, isn’t he?”
“Rather!”
“And a thief, too?”
“I should think so.”
“It would serve him jolly well right if he lost his boat.”
“He don’t deserve to have a boat at all.”