“But not too well,” put in Herb, “or we’ll soon have him as fat as Jimmy. I don’t know how strong the Meteor is, but there’s been a pretty heavy strain on her since Jimmy came on board, and if Hector gets as big, the boat may founder.”
“What does Jimmy care for that?” chaffed Joe. “He couldn’t sink if he tried to. He’s a human life-preserver.”
Jimmy cast upon them a look of biting scorn.
“I’d rather be comfortably plump than to be a string bean like you boobs,” he came back at them.
“Angels of grace defend us!” ejaculated Joe. “Do you get that, fellows? Jimmy isn’t fat. Perish the thought! He’s just comfortably plump. Jimmy, I take off my hat to you. You’re a past master in camouflaging the English language.”
“Lay off Jimmy now, and let’s get down to brass tacks,” said Bob. “Don’t let’s forget that we’ve got to get in touch with the folks at home and get their permission to continue this trip.”
“Needn’t worry about that just now,” put in the indolent Herb. “The wireless is going to be pretty busy for some time to come with the matter of this ship. I doubt if we can get our messages in for some hours yet.”
“You ought to be a Mexican, with your eternal putting off of everything till the last possible moment,” declared Joe.
“I don’t know but what the Mexicans have it all over us at that,” Herb defended himself. “Never do today what you can put off till tomorrow isn’t half bad as a motto.”
“Herb’s like the fellow that always let his mail accumulate for three months at a time,” observed Jimmy. “Then he tore all his letters up because it was too late to answer the important ones, and the unimportant ones didn’t need to be answered anyway.”