Dave watched him
as a cat does a mouse.
Just as Nat was on the point of dumping some of the salt into the
ice-cream he felt himself jerked backwards. The salt dropped to the
floor, and Nat found himself confronting Dave, with Phil but a few steps
away.
"You contemptible rascal!" cried Dave, his eyes flashing.
"Why--I--er----" stammered the money-lender's son. He did not know what
to say.
"Going to spoil the cream, eh?" came from Phil. "It was a mighty dirty
trick, Nat."
"On a level with what you did to Professor Potts," added Dave.
"I--er--I wasn't going to do nothing!" cried Nat, with little regard for
grammar. "I--er--I was looking at the ice-cream, that's all."
"A poor excuse is worse than none," answered Dave, grimly. "You were
going to put salt in the cream and spoil it, you needn't deny it."
"See here, Dave Porter, I want you to understand----"
"Don't talk, Nat, we know all about it," broke in Phil. "You planned to
come here yesterday, and we can prove it. We were on the lookout for
you."
At this assertion the face of the money-lender's son changed. He grew
quite pale.
"I haven't time to waste on you--I want to enjoy this party," said Dave.
"Come along with me."
"Where to?" demanded Nat.
"I'll show you," answered Dave, and caught the money-lender's son by the
arm.
Pages:
26
27
28
29
30
31
32
33
34
35
36
37
38
39
40
41
42
43
44
45
46
47
48
49
50