Chapter XII An Unexpected Difficulty
Quibb was eyeing the Walcott Hall boys with disfavor as they approached. In truth, his usual expression seemed to be sour, and his look now registered nothing pleasant for Rex Kingdon and his friends.
“That’s what I thought,” he said sharply, squinting at Kingdon. “You ain’t—narry one o’ ye—the boys I seen over to t’other camp when I was here before.”
“Do tell!” drawled Kingdon. “Your eyesight hasn’t gone back on you. You are just as unfamiliar to our eyes as we are to yours.”
“Ha!” said Enos. “Who d’ye s’pose I be?”
“The Czar of all the Russias—in disgeeze,” said Rex airily. “I see you’re not toting your scepter, and it’s too hot a day, of course, to wear a crown. You’d ruin the sweatband.”
The constable glared. “I’ll tell you who I be. I’m Constable Quibb, of Blackport, that’s who I be! And I wanter know by what right you boys air camping on this here island?”
“Oh, buttons and buttonhooks!” murmured Red Phillips. “I knew he couldn’t be toting that tin star just for decorative purposes. You can see he’s round shouldered from carrying it.”
“Come on!” commanded Enos Quibb, rising threateningly from his seat. “Who are you youngsters, and what are ye doin’ here?”
“How abrupt you are,” Kingdon said soothingly. His hand was fumbling in the inner pocket of his jacket. “Suppose we have a permit to camp on Storm Island?”
“Wal, s’pose you have,” snapped Enos. “Le’s see it.”
“All in good time——”
“Ye can’t fool me none,” interrupted the constable. “I know who’s got the permit from the Manatee Company. And there ain’t but one party been give it, neither. Can’t fool me.”
“I wouldn’t try,” Rex said with apparent awe. “It would be Lèse Majesté—no less.”
“Huh? I dunno what ye’re sayin’,” said Quibb suspiciously. “Le’s see your letter from the Manatee Lumber Company.”
The other fellows were by this time staring at Kingdon wonderingly. He did not produce the permit.
“Oh, we have it,” the blond chap said, waving his hand. “Don’t let it worry you, Mr. Constable.”
“Ya-as. So ye say. An’ I s’pose you’ll tell me, too, that your name is Kingdon?”
“Why, yes, that does happen to be my name,” said Rex. He stopped searching his pockets and stared at Enos Quibb with increasing interest. Quibb broke into a raucous laugh.
“There’s a big fam’bly of you Kingdons, I reckon?” he rasped out. “Ain’t you ashamed—lyin’ like that? Your name ain’t no more Kingdon than mine is Obediah Smoke! I’m ready for you city chaps, I be. And you git off this island. You ain’t got no permit from the Manatee Company—and you ain’t Kingdon and his party. Now, git!”
Kingdon laughed as though highly amused. But, aside from Peewee’s echoing giggle, the remainder of the company seemed more vexed than amused.
“Aw, show him the letter, Rex, and put the poor thing out of his misery,” Midkiff urged.
“He’s too noisy for comfort, Kingdon,” said Applejack. “Why torture him so?”
“I’m warnin’ ye,” Enos sputtered. “I was goin’ over east to Collings Point on an errand, and I see your boat. I knowed only one party belonged here——”
“How do you know we’re not that party?” asked Rex, with sudden seriousness.
“’Cause I already been to that other camp—t’other day. And they told me who they was all right.”
“Did they?” drawled Kingdon. “Did you see their permit?”
“Huh? Wal—I can’t say I did—exactly,” admitted the constable. “But ’twarn’t necessary. I knew who they was.”
“How did you know?”
“Why, they told me,” said Enos, in a most innocent manner.
“Say!” snickered Hicks. “Who did they say they were?”
Kingdon made a gesture for Hicks, as well as the others, to keep quiet and let him do the talking. “If you didn’t ask to see their permit, Mr. Constable,” he said, argumentatively, “I don’t see how you could know for sure who they are. Why should you expect to see ours?”
“Never you mind about that,” returned Enos, very red in the face again. “I’ll do my own business in my own way. You show me your permit.”
“No,” Kingdon refused quite earnestly. “The other crowd was here first. Take a squint at their permit—if they have one. That’s only fair.”
Midkiff grumbled. “What’s the matter with you, Rex?” he demanded. “Always hunting trouble.”
“Aw, give him a squint at the letter, and let him be on his way,” said Red. “He wearies me.”
But Kingdon was obdurate. When Enos insisted, the blond youth waved him airily aside.
“See those other chaps,” he said. “Ask to see their permit from the Manatee Company. Why try to play favorites, Mr. Constable?”
“I tell you what!” cried Enos Quibb threateningly. “You’ll jest take down your tent and pack your duds aboard that boat to-night. That’s what you’ll do.”
“Say not so!” groaned Rex.
“Yes, you will. I’d a mind ter let ye stay till mornin’, when I come back from the P’int. But not now. You’ll go to-night.”
“How about those other campers?” insisted Kingdon. “If they stay, we stay.”
“I’m going right along there now, and look at their permit. I neglected to ask for it before, but I meant ter. An’ then I’m comin’ back. If you boys ain’t purty near ready to go aboard that catboat when I return, I’ll help ye off this islan’ in a way ye won’t like.”
He stamped down to the shore and clambered over the rail of his motor-launch. In a minute or two the boat chugged away.