"Oh I don't know," Billy replied. "What makes you think so, Jim?" Scroggie sat down beside him on the log. "I had a chum in the city who laughed just like you do. Gosh, nobody'll know how much I miss him."
"Dead?"
Scroggie nodded. "Drowned through an air-hole in the lake. Say, Billy, do you skate?"
"Some."
"Swim?"
"A little."
"Shoot?"
Billy scratched his head reflectively. "Not much, any more," he said. "Course I like duck-shootin', an' do quite a lot of it in the fall."
"How 'bout quail?"
"I don't shoot quail any more," Billy answered. "I've got to know 'em too well, I guess. You see," in answer to the other boy's look of surprise, "when a feller gets to know what chummy, friendly little beggars they are, he don't feel like shootin' 'em."