“It ought to be great stuff,” says Fatty.

“Young man,” says Old Hickory, breathin’ hard and talkin’ through his teeth, “have you any idea what a splash you’d make if you were dropped overboard?”

“Oh, come, guv’nor,” protests Fatty; “we only want to—­”

About then, though, he decides to make a scramble for his boat and the interview was off.  Old Hickory stands glarin’ after the pair until they’re out of sight.  Then he chuckles unpleasant.

“For a private, not to say secret, enterprise,” says he, “it occurs to me that ours is rather well advertised.  What next, I wonder?”

“There’s a big boat headed this way on the other side,” says I.  “Seems to me I hear a band, too.”

“Excursionists!” says Auntie.  “Do you suppose they would have the impudence?”

“Looks like a moonlight round trip, with the Agnes as the object of interest,” says I.  “Yep!  They’ve got the searchlight on us.”

“This is insufferable!” says Auntie, and beats it below, to lock herself in her stateroom.

“Gr-r-r-r!” remarks Old Hickory, and follows suit.

We never did trace out who had done such thorough press work for us; but I have my suspicions it was the chief steward, who went ashore reg’lar every morning after milk and cream.  But the round-trippers surely was well posted.  We could hear ’em talkin’ us over, shoutin’ their comments above the rumble of the engine.

Vee and I didn’t want to miss any of it, so we hikes up on the bridge and camps behind the canvas spray shield.  Captain Lennon come up, too, sort of standin’ guard.  It was ‘most like bein’ under fire in the trenches.

“That’s her—­the Agnes of New York!” we heard ’em sing out.  “My, what a perfectly swell yacht, Minnie!  Ain’t they the boobs, though?  Hey, Sam, why dontcher ask them squirrels can they make a noise like a nut?  Huntin’ pirate gold, are they?  Who’s been kiddin’ ’em that way?”

“Little sample of Southern hospitality, I expect,” says I.  “All they lack is a few ripe eggs and some garden confetti.”

“I wonder if Auntie can hear?” giggles Vee.  “Do you know what this makes me feel like?  As if I were a person in a cartoon.”

“You’ve said it,” says I.  “What I mind most, though, is that fresh gink with the searchlight.  Say, Cap’n, why couldn’t we turn ours loose at him as a come-back?”

“Go ahead,” says Captain Lennon, throwin’ a switch.

Say, that was a great little thought, for the Agnes has a high-powered glim, and when I swung it onto that excursion boat it made theirs look like a boardin’-house gas jet with the pressure low.  You could see the folks blinkin’ and battin’ their eyes as if they was half blinded.  Nest I picks up the pilot house and gives the man at the wheel the full benefit.

“Hey!  Take off that light,” he sings out.  “I can’t see where I’m runnin’.  Take it off!”