did not seem to be making much progress in his feat of
untying the binding cord.

Frank could feel Will quiver with emotion as he pressed against him. The
very thought of his beloved camera and those invaluable films floating on
the water filled the boy with unutterable anguish. He even groaned,
though the fact that the conspirators were so busily engaged, and talking
in the bargain, prevented them from hearing the suspicious sound.

"Andy was a-helpin' 'em," declared one of the group, as though that fact
might constitute a crime in his eyes.

"'Course; what more could ye expect arter the way he got us to go out
with him to cover up that hole again? Andy's got religion, I reckon;
leastways he ain't the same kind o' a feller he was," declared Pet.

"But he turned on you mighty quick, I noticed, an' sed as how he'd wipe
up the ground with your remains if you jest didn't go along and help undo
our work. He kin fight yet, even if he is changed," said the fellow who
hung discreetly on the outskirts of the group, and who was evidently a
devoted follower of the said Andy.

"Jest mind yer own business, Tom Somers, an' speak when yer spoken to.
Guess I know that yer intendin' to stick to Andy through thick an'
thin. But they ain't everybody feelin' that way, understand? If Andy
he's a-goin' to turn on us and be chummy with that crowd, we ain't
expectin' to stand it, see?" declared Pet, still struggling with the
obstreperous knot.

"Them's my sentiments," observed another.

"Me, too, fellers?" declared a second.

"Yes, it's easy for ye to talk that ways when he ain't around; but let
him give any one o' ye a single look an' it's eat dirt for the lot. Ain't
I seen it done many a time? An' some day Andy's goin' to give Pet the
time o' his life," the single faithful henchman kept saying.

"Oh, let up, Tom! Ain't any one o' ye got a knife? I can't never get this
here knot untied. Hand it here, Billy. Now watch the fun, fellers," and
as he spoke Pet opened a blade of the borrowed knife, and proceeded to
lay it across the cord.

To judge by the way he sawed, that blade was too dull to cut butter.

"What d'ye call this thing, anyhow, Billy? One side's about as sharp as
t'other, an' a feller couldn't commit suicide, if he tried to, with this
frog-sticker."

"Try mine," said the fellow who owned a camera.

"Say, that's the cheese; it's got a edge all right. Now wouldn't little
Willie Milton weep tears if he seen me a-doin'