He felt in duty bound to
accompany his master's singing, but on this occasion, at least, he
brought it to a sudden conclusion, for no one could possibly sing in
face of the uproarious laughter that greeted his outburst.
"That's always the way," remarked Billy Brackett, with a comical
expression. "I never am allowed to prove what I am really capable of
in the vocal line. But what are you boys doing here? Where did you
come from, where are you going, and how in the name of all that is
obscure and remarkable do you happen to be on board our raft?"
"Your raft?" echoed Glen Elting. "What do you mean by your raft? We
called it our raft until a few minutes ago, and now we call it Mr.
Caspar's raft."
"Yes, I know. Major Caspar's raft. But it's all the same as ours, for
I am his brother-in-law, and have his written authority to dispose of
it as I see fit. Besides, this is his son, and we have been hunting
this raft for the best part of a month. By-the-way, Winn, these are
two old, or rather two young, campmates of mine, Mr. Glen Eddy--I mean
Matherson; no, I beg pardon--Elting is the name at present, I believe."
"Do you know him intimately?" interrupted Winn, slyly.
Billy Brackett made a dive at the boy, but as the latter leaped nimbly
aside, he continued: "And Mr. Binney Gibbs, popularly known as 'Grip.
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