“Here I send you fellows out to pick up a couple of young kids and you muff the thing,” Mr. Nevens said, softly. “And yet you expect to be big shots in the plans we’ve got mapped. What good are you, the lot of you?”
“Cowboy,” Dago admonished, “did you ever get an arrow stuck in you?”
Mr. Nevens smiled slowly and expansively.
“No,” said he, happily. “But, if you get any more, I’ll mistake you for a pincushion!”
The Water Witch had now taken an abrupt change in her course. Left behind were the lights of Centerport. Instead, she was shaping her way westward towards Point Zenith and the village there.
“There’s an ideal spot, just round the point, for what I’ve got planned, John,” Stan explained, as he stood his own trick at the wheel while John brought up a bag of doughnuts and sandwiches.
“What you planning, Skipper? You know, they’ll be after us at daybreak! Honey-coated biscuits—how that Dago loves arrows!”
His last remark was an afterthought and both boys chuckled with amusement.
“They’ll search for us till they find us, John. But I’ve got a plan.”
“What is it?”