“He must have nabbed the lad on ze boat-house; and oh, how please monsieur the Colonel will be! Oh, I say, chaffer, did you get him?”
“Gee whiz, listen to that! They must have been talking to Pierre!” exclaimed George, turning excitedly toward the newcomers. “Look here, you chaps,” he continued, “what do you know about this?”
“Why, where’s the shoofur?” asked one.
“Has the show-fear skipped?” said another. “Hello, you fellows—belong around here?”
“No, we don’t,” answered George, shortly. “You met the chap who runs this car, eh?”
“Surest thing you know. Monsieur the Colonel sent him after a lad who ran off on a boat-house, and——”
“You don’t mean to say that he was alone?” queried George, in astonishment.
“Sure he was,” replied the other, apparently surprised at the rich boy’s manner.
George Clayton whistled; and then, as if feeling that it might not be wise to let the others know too much, broke into a laugh.
“I suppose he’s over by the river, hunting for the poor chap, eh?”