"Oh, don't!" screamed Dora, and covered her face with her hands.
"We want no shooting here—" began Randy Fairwell, and then stopped short in wonder.
For reaching down, Tom had suddenly given the end of the plank a wabble. Before they could save themselves, the Baxters, father and son, pitched with a loud splash into the lake.
"Good for you!" cried Sam. "If only they don't try to shoot when they come up."
There was a commotion in the water and mud lining the shore, and slowly the Baxters appeared to view, covered with slime and weeds, and both empty-handed, for Dan had not had time to draw his weapon, and that of the father lay somewhere on the bottom.
"Now do you surrender, or shall I do a little shooting?" said Tom sternly, although he had no weapon.
"Don't shoot me, please don't!" howled Dan, his last bit of courage deserting him.
The father said nothing, but looked as if he would like to annihilate both of the Rovers.
Randy Fairwell turned quickly to Dora Stanhope.
"You are certain these people are bad?" he said.
