"What?" asked the others in a chorus.
"My dad says they call it 'mershum,'" was the lofty response.
Sube's Baptist leanings collapsed like a house of cards. "Now I know you're lyin'," he growled disgustedly, "'cause that's a kind of a pipe you smoke. My father's got one."
For a few moments conflict seemed inevitable. Then the discussion took a new angle and developed into an argument as to the knowledge of their respective fathers of the correct meaning of the word "mershum." After this had waged for a few minutes with honors about equally divided, Gizzard had a brilliant idea.
"Look here, Sube!" he cried. "We could keep chewin' about this all day long and not get nowhere. But if I could show it to you, then you'd have to b'lieve it!"
"I'll b'lieve it jus' soon as I see it," Sube admitted; "and not before."
"All right!" shouted Gizzard, starting for the stairs. "Come on! I'll show it to you!"
Sube stirred uneasily. "Yeah, and then when we got there you'd say we couldn't get in the church 'cause it was locked. You can't bluff me—"
"You think so, do you? Well, we ain't goin' in the door at all! We're goin' in a window with a busted catch! Hope to die and cross my heart if we ain't! And if you don't come along now we'll know who's the bluffer, by jingo!"
"All right, kid," grunted Sube as he arose languidly and began to hunt for his cap. "But if I find out you been lyin' to me,—I'll fix you good and plenty."