"Don't let anything more happen to him, Bob Somers," yelled Nat; "but look out for his pa. Full speed, Kirk, or we may not be a mile away before the cops get here."
The motor of the "Nimrod" began to work furiously, and it drew rapidly ahead.
The young man did not reply to the Ramblers' proffers of assistance, but swam after his canoe and began pushing it toward the shore.
"Whew, isn't he mad, though? I don't blame him a bit either," whispered Tom Clifton.
"The Trailers may get into trouble for this," said Sam Randall. "Let's stay here until we see what mister towhead does."
A few moments later, the involuntary bather stood on a landing, surrounded by a crowd of sympathetic spectators.
"I tell you, this gang is a regular pack of outlaws," the Ramblers heard him say, as he began to wring out his dripping clothes.
"Going to have 'em took up?" inquired some one.
"Well, I guess so. If the whole crowd isn't up before Squire Peterson this very night, I'm badly mistaken."
"It would serve them just right," observed Sam Randall.