"Let's take these boys where they want to go and get back to the house, Bill," he suggested, a glint in his eye. "I'm hungry, and something tells me that I'm going to be hungrier soon. You wouldn't let me die of starvation, would you?" Bill looked uncertainly at Garry and the others, opened his mouth as though to speak, then shut it again with a look of determination and turned his attention to his engine. Big Bill was hospitable, as were his father and mother. The obvious and natural thing for him to do under the circumstances would have been to ask the derelicts up to his house, which was not far away, give them dry clothes of some sort, invite them to partake of an early supper, and then send them home in the family car. Nine times out of ten he would have acted in just that way. But this time he conquered his instinct toward hospitality without apparent effort. Looking at Jerry Cox and Lent Stewart with an expressionless face, he said in a cold voice that caused his chums to look at each other with inquiring glances: "If you'll tell me where you want to go, I'll see that you get there as soon as possible." "We came from Lenox," Lent Stewart answered, sullenly enough. "I have a boathouse there and I can get a change of clothes. My father is rich, and he'll see that you get a--" He was evidently going to add "reward," but the color that came into Garry's face and the flash that came from his eyes daunted him, and he murmured something that was unintelligible. "I guess I can get you there all right," said Bill, as he coaxed the engine into life. "It's all up to the old tub. We'll hope she's in a good humor." It appeared that the "old tub" was in exceptionally good humor; so they made the two-mile trip up the Sheldon river in excellent time. Bill had fastened the hull of the wrecked boat to his own craft with a rope and pulled it along after him. Lent Stewart's evil humor persisted throughout the trip. Not a word of thanks came from his lips. He sat sullenly, looking gloweringly at the wreck of his boat, varied only by the ugly glances he cast at Jerry. When they reached the boathouse landing, Stewart stepped off, and with a mumbled word that might have been interpreted as reluctant thanks, directed to no one in particular, made for the boathouse. Jerry, on the contrary, thanked the other lads heartily. Then he turned to go to the boathouse, only to be stopped by Stewart. "You clear out of this!" he growled. "You wrecked my boat and I don't want anything more to do with you." "All right, you doughhead, that suits me," retorted Jerry Cox, and strode off to the shore, whistling, with his hands in his pockets. Garry and his friends, who had not yet gotten out of earshot, heard the interchange and grinned. They had all of them taken a strong dislike to Lent Stewart. They heartily hoped that they would never see him again.