“I’m only going to tell you fellows once more,” warned Jack. “Better get out, or you’ll meet your dearest friend arm to arm.”
“Well, Duke, did yez hear that? There’s a real live humorist fur ye—‘Arm ter arm.’ More gingerbread? Certainly, Duke. Floatin’ groceries in their wilderness is a wrinkle of the twentieth century wot don’t harm no one.”
The boys looked up and down the river and at the motor boats passing. But no one was in sight on the shore and the boats were too far out. There seemed to be no help at hand and, in vexation and disgust, they withdrew to talk the matter over.
“We’ll have to get those fellows off in a hurry,” said Bob, determinedly.
“What in thunder can we do?” asked Jack.
“Go right on board, and pitch into them,” suggested Joe, doubling his fists and making about four savage passes in the air. “Fire ’em off, bag and baggage.”
But Fred hastily shook his head.
“No, no!” he demurred. “Besides, they’re much too hefty. Maybe Redfern could help us.”
“I’m afraid not,” mused Jack. “He’s a jolly nice chap—but doesn’t look quite old enough to scare ’em.”
“We mustn’t allow ourselves to get excited,” drawled Dave.