Old Skipper here chased 'em away from my melon patch the other day.

I reckon they thought Old Scratch was after them, the way they run; but they got away with some melons, just the same." The old man laughed aloud at the recollection of the marauders' precipitous flight.
That Jack Curtiss and his two cronies had made a rendezvous of the island was news to the boys, and not agreeable news, either.

They had been planning a patrol camp there later on in the summer, and the bully and his two chums were not regarded by them as desirable neighbors.
However, they said nothing, as they could not claim sole right to use the island, which was property that had been so long in litigation that It had come to be known as "No Man's Land" as well as by its proper name.

The captain was only a squatter there, but no one cared to disturb him, and he had led the existence of a semi-hermit there for many years.
The Flying Fish rapidly covered the calm waters of the inlet and was soon dancing over the swells outside.
"I'm going to let her out a bit," said Rob suddenly; "look out for spray." "Spray don't bother a brine-pickled old salt like me," laughed the captain.

"Let her go." The Flying Fish seemed fairly to leap forward as Merritt gave her the full power of her engine.