“Yes, a right smart spell. Runned off without yer, did they, mate? Some people is mean enough for anythin’.”
Tom was too angry and disturbed to make any reply to this observation.
“My, but wouldn’t I like to punch that little Victor,” he thought. “I didn’t think it of Bob Somers; or Dave, either. Looks as though the whole bunch is trying to have a big joke at my expense. Hey?”
The little man was speaking again.
“Ye oughter be real glad ye weren’t took along, mate,” he remarked, pleasantly. “Ye look kinder peart now; but a right smart spell o’ tossin’ about out there ’ud take that out o’ you. I always says, give me seasoned water every time.”
“Seasoned water?” queried Tom.
“Sure, mate; some as has plenty o’ salt in it. I’ve sailed on both kinds, an’ I know.”
“Then I suppose the lake makes you feel a bit peppery at times, eh?” grunted Tom, as he strode rapidly away.
“Well, of all things!” he exclaimed, hotly, when out of hearing distance. “Isn’t this the limit! A dandy trip bungled at the very start; and all on account of that little spoiled kid. By George, they certainly have put it up to me to take our car to Milwaukee all alone. Think I’ll ‘flop,’ eh, as Victor calls it? Well, I rather guess not!”
Tom looked very savage indeed; his fists were tightly clenched, and he glared about him in a way that might have attracted attention had any observers been near.