“They kin find out for theirselves,” he grunted, decidedly.
When Victor, a few moments later, shot a glance over his shoulder he saw the man walking slowly away from the wharf.
“The idea of a husky lump like that asking for money!” he sniffed.
“He didn’t,” returned Dave.
“Well, he was going to. I’m glad I called him down. And I don’t care what you say, Brandon, there’s something funny about this boat business,” Victor almost screeched.
“We’ll go right over to the hotel now, and see Tom,” said Dave, firmly.
There was a significance in his manner which Victor had already learned to comprehend—it meant that his wishes were to be obeyed. Fuming with impatience, and feeling a deep sense of personal injury at the way things had gone, he followed his companion.
“The garage is on our way,” remarked Dave, a few minutes later. “I want to see if that motor car has been made ready for our trip.”
Benjamin Rochester, the colored lad, with an oily rag and a can of gasoline in his hand, looked up quickly as their forms were silhouetted against the open doorway.
“Fo’ de land’s sake,” he gasped, “I thought you fellers had done gone!”