Consternation reigned, but only for a moment. A hand was thrust above the surface, then a head, and Nat, puffing and blowing, rose to a standing posture, with the water up to his waist.

"Where's that old scarecrow?" he cried, as soon as he could get his breath. "I'll make him pay for this."

It was strange how a few moments had altered his appearance. With the water pouring off him in streams, his hair matted fantastically to his forehead and his face streaked with mud, he presented such a ludicrous spectacle that the Ramblers could hardly keep from bursting into roars of laughter.

Nat waded a few feet and seized his hat, which was just about to sink. "Don't let him get away," he cried. "If nobody ever saw an awful row before, they'd better wait until I get on that bank."

Disdainfully refusing any assistance, the speaker made his way to a place where he could climb up, and a few moments later, was standing on the greensward. His fists were tightly clenched and he presented a picture of the most uncontrollable rage. Apparently having formed an intimate acquaintance with the mud at the bottom of the river, his wet, clinging garments were decorated with generous patches of assorted shapes.

Nat's first act was to pick up a handful of loose earth, which he hurled spitefully at the "Major." "You—you," he began, his words almost choked by passion, "you old villain; you'll be in jail for this before night. My uncle will—"

But Zeke Tipson's face was stinging where some of the earth had landed with unwonted force, and he was in no humor to stand any of Nat Wingate's threats. The words were hardly out of the speaker's mouth when he once more sprang toward him, with uplifted stick.

Nat was far from being taken unawares, and this time he used commendably good judgment in his actions. He sprang nimbly to one side, and, despite the handicap of his wet clothing, began to travel over the ground at an astonishing rate. The incident was thus abruptly closed, for Zeke's clumsy movements were in striking contrast.

"He's fast as one of them new-fangled flying machines," observed the "Major," unable to repress a smile. "And I wager he won't care for no perlice to find out what he done."

At this instant, a figure was seen hastily approaching from the direction of the woods.

"My goodness, it's father!" exclaimed Bob.

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