his way here. Well, gentlemen, the first to grasp his hand when he boards the boat will be the chap who now addresses you."
They stood gazing doubtfully at George in revolt. Then Minot turned, and saw a rowboat putting off from the pier.
"Come on," he cried, and leaped on the shoulders of the aspirant to the title. Paddock and Wall followed. Despite his discouraged appearance, George put up a lively fight. For a time the four men struggled back and forth across the deck, now in moonlight, now in shadow. Once George slipped and fell, his three captors on top of him, and at that moment Mr. Minot felt a terrific tugging at his coat. But the odds were three to one against George Harrowby, and finally he was dragged and pushed into the launch. Again Paddock started the engine, and that odd boat load drew away from the Lileth.
They had gone about ten feet when poor old George slipped out from under Minot and leaped to his feet.
"Hi—Trimmer—it's me—it's George—" he
