Step looked hurt. “Don’t you want anybody but yourself to have any fun?”
“I don’t intend to entertain Plainville in a body.”
Step’s expression was bewildered. “Say—say, you ain’t crawling, are you?” he queried.
The suspicion stung Sam’s pride. “Crawling? Not on your life! I’m looking for Tom Orkney, and when I find him I’ll ask him to walk back in the woods with me—he’ll know what for. And you can come along, and one or two of the others, but——”
The cloud vanished from Step’s brow. “Oh, that’s all right!” he said heartily. “Can’t have a mob trailing along, of course. But I say! There’s Orkney now—just shooting out from behind the point. He’s chasing one of the kids.”
Sam’s glance followed the direction of Step’s extended arm.
“Yes, that’s Orkney, fast enough. But what’s he doing?”
“Pestering the youngster!” snapped Step. “Can’t you see? And I declare, if it isn’t Little Perrine he’s worrying!”
Sam watched the swiftly moving figures, one short and slender, the other tall and stout. Little Perrine, barely in the lead, seemed to be hard pressed, for he dodged frequently without being able to throw off his pursuer.
Suddenly Step cried out sharply: “The miserable bully! Look, Sam! he’s driving the kid right down to the dam, where the ice won’t hold him for a minute!”