“If you young men will lead the way to the place, I’ll pay you for the service,” continued Colonel Ellison, coldly. “My nephew is aboard that boat, associating with a parcel of young rascals, who have no better way of using their time than to be cavorting along the river in a shackly mud-scow.”
“Awful—terrible—frightful,” murmured the student, nudging his neighbor in the ribs. “Run away from home, has he? Hello, you two chaps! Thought you were a couple of statues—you stood so still.”
“Hello yourself,” came in Jack’s weak falsetto.
“Same here,” said Joe, in his heaviest tones.
“Belong around these parts?”
“Belong where our feet find us,” said Joe.
“But ze boat-house,” interrupted Pierre. “Ma foi—if you no hurry, Monsieur le Colonel, ze scamp have ze time to give you what you call it, ze slip—ees that not it?”
“You are right, Pierre,” said Colonel Ellison, with dignity. “We are fortunate to have met these young gentlemen. That rascally tutor will find that he made a mistake. If it is possible, I shall make an example of him. Show us the house-boat, please.”
“I say,” whispered Joe, “did you ever hear of such mean luck? These chaps are going to get us in a peck o’ trouble. What’s to be done?”
“Face the music and toot a little, to help it along,” said Jack, calmly.