"
"What do you say, Mr. Trimmer?" Townsend laughed. "If you want to tow
this whole business back up to your place we'll help you shovel the
land off the scow. We don't want to camp on an island that violates
the law. But you haven't got anything to do with this scow. I'm not
asking you how it got alongside your field or why the dredging people
didn't take it away when they took the dredge away; that's your
business," he added rather significantly. "We'll admit the land is
yours----"
"No, we won't!" said Pee-wee.
"Yes, we will," said Townsend quietly. "Now what do you want to do
about this property? Shall we wrap it up for you or shall we send it?
Our dealings are with the steam dredge people. Now what do you say?
By the way, will you have a cruller?"
It was perfectly evident that Townsend Ripley, with rather more quiet
shrewdness than any of them had given him credit for, had gently
stabbed Mr. Trimmer in a weak spot. It was the scow that old Trimmer
wanted. How he had come by it had been only faintly suggested by
Townsend. How it had chanced to be moored in that secluded spot under
the projecting land after the big dredge had gone away, was not
discussed and is not a part of this story. It seemed evident that old
Trimmer was rather disturbed at the thought of the boys getting in
touch with the dredge people.
"Go ahead n' camp on it then," he said in sulky surrender; "and don't
make a nuisance of yourselves writin' letters to the dredging company.
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