“Boo—hoo! Who got kicked out his boat! Young muller, couldn’t steer a tub.”
“I’ll tub you, young Pilbury, see if I don’t, presently,” replied Telson.
“Never mind them,” shouted King, “can’t even make up a boat; pack of funks, all of them!”
“Hullo! who are you?” cried Philpot, rounding on these new assailants. “We’d have a boat, never fear, if there was any chance of fair play.”
“Lot of fair play you’d want, to turn the boat round and round and catch crabs every other second!”
“There are our fellows!” cried Wyndham, raising a loud cheer as Fairbairn, Coates, Porter, Crossfield, and Riddell appeared on the landing stage.
“Hurrah! schoolhouse, hurrah!”
“Ye-ow, look at them—there’s a lot!” hooted the Welchers.
“There’s old Parson!” yelled Telson, Bosher, and King, as the youthful hero in question strutted magnificently down to the landing.
“What cheer, stuck-up jackass?” howled the Welchers, with an insulting laugh; “why don’t you grin?”