"Talking won't bring back any duds," grunted Harry Hazelton.
"Teall can't have gotten very far with such a load. Let's rush
after him."

"You lead the way, then, son," suggested Dick, "and instead of
following you, we'll wait here until you bring the things back."

"I wonder which way he went?" puzzled Hazelton.

"Probably straight to the road," smiled Dick grimly. "That's
the shortest cut, and the road isn't far from here."

"But I can't go near the road in this---this---fix," sputtered
Harry, looking down at his wet, glistening skin.

"Exactly," nodded Prescott. "Nor can any of us go. That's the
joke. Like it? Ha, ha, ha!"

Dick's laugh had anything but a merry sound. None of the boys
had a truly jovial look, nor was it to be expected of them. Tom
was solemn as an owl, Harry fussy; Dan was grinning in a sickly
sort of way, as was Dave Darrin. Greg Holmes, utterly silent,
stood with his fists clenched, thinking how he would like to be
able at this moment to pounce upon Ted Teall.

"It's an outrage!" sputtered Hi Martin, white to the roots of
his hair. He was walking about, stamping with his bare feet on
the ground, the fingers of both his hands working nervously.