As they crashed through the underbrush, then swooped pell-mell across an open space, the men arose, with ludicrous haste, and were about to leap ashore, when the larger laid a restraining hand upon his companion’s shoulder.
“Why, it’s nothing but a parcel of boys,” he said. “Don’t disturb yourself, pal; let’s continue our peaceful meal.”
He laughed, and sank back against the side of the boat, and calmly surveyed the indignant boys, who arrived on the scene quite out of breath.
They were both large men, ragged and unkempt in appearance—typical specimens of their kind; although the one who had spoken wore a very mild expression for a tramp.
“I say,” began Jack, impetuously, “can’t you chaps find some other place to eat your grub?—and—by Jingo, I’ll bet it’s our grub, too.”
He stared at the open window, then at several familiar pots and pans which rested beside the grinning tramps.
“Well, I like that. I—I——”
“We thought you would. That’s why we done it, pal,” said number one, eating a large slice of broiled ham, with evident relish. “Are you the head duffer, might I ask—but surely you ain’t running this here craft yourselves?”
“You’d better get out!” cried Jack, fiercely, despite the efforts of Fred Winter to resort to diplomatic measures.
“Nuttin’ annoys me pal s’much as when he’s disturbed at eatin’, eh, Duke?” and, as number one nodded and helped himself to another supply, the speaker waved his arm threateningly.