"I was right!" cried John Hackett, loudly; "I was right! We've been done, like the biggest lot of chumps you ever heard of."
"Steals the 'Nimrod,' and calls us a lot of kids," exclaimed Nat Wingate. "That's just a little more than the limit."
"Maybe the fellows at Kingswood won't laugh at us," said Ted Pollock.
"Why didn't some one sleep on board?" wailed little Tommy Clifton.
"Because we were a pack of idiots, that's why," snapped Hackett. "I don't think that 'honest man' made a mistake—not a bit of it."
"It means the finish of our grand trip, all right," declared Nat; "make up your minds to that, boys."
"Talk about being disgusted," fumed Hackett; "I never was so wild in all my life. We are a fine lot—the whole crowd of us. Your uncle is going to raise a beautiful row, Nat."
"You may be sure he will," sighed their leader. "No use standing here. Suppose we get back to camp."
Two almost spent pine-knots hissed and sputtered as the water closed about them. John Hackett had kicked one violently and thrown the other.
"And just think of all the fun we were going to have," he groaned.