Quite a crowd collected, as the “Gray Gull” swung slowly in. A boy with a fishing pole kindly seized the rope that Jack Lyons threw him, and wrapped it around a post.
Within a few minutes, the house-boat boys were ashore. Jack answered questions from the curious in his usual free and easy manner; then all began moving away from the wharf.
“I certainly feel pleased,” declared George Clayton, with a sigh of satisfaction. “Got to Albany, in spite of Pierre; and now I don’t care if Uncle Dan orders me right back home.”
“Yes, you won out, old boy,” said Bob, slapping him on the back. “And—— Good gracious alive!”
From behind a small shanty, a slight figure suddenly stepped into view and confronted the runaway.
One glance into the excited face that looked into his own, and George Clayton gave a start.
“Pierre Dufour!” he exclaimed, in astonishment.
CHAPTER XXII
THE PUSH-BALL CONTEST
“Ah, ha, Monsieur George, I would speak with you von leetle minute!” exclaimed the chauffeur, in a voice that trembled. “Ah, you have not know what you do—ma foi. No! Monsieur the Colonel, he—— Saire, I speak not to you,” and Pierre’s black eyes flashed with anger, as Norman Redfern stepped forward.