"Get onto them little steps goin' down into the water, jus' like I tole you," Gizzard pointed out.
Sube did get on to them, first with his eyes, and then with his feet. He squatted down and dipped his hand into the water. "Why, it's warm!" he exclaimed.
"Sure it's warm," said Gizzard patronizingly. "Didn't I tell you it's right on top the furnace, so's they can use it all winter?"
"Hadn't we better be gettin' that thing back?" asked Cathead, glancing nervously towards the door.
"What for?" blurted Sube brazenly. "We jus' got her opened up!"
Cathead squirmed uneasily. "Somebody might come in and catch us. Ol' Joe might come to take care of the furnace."
"Huh!" snorted Sube defiantly. "Who's afraid of ol' Joe? I ain't any more afraid of him than I am of—" Sube looked about for a suitable means of comparison—"of you!" he cried, pointing his finger at Cathead. "And I guess you know how much that is."
"Well, then," argued Cathead, "somebody else might come in. Doc Mossman might—!"
At the mere mention of the minister's name Gizzard quailed; Cottontop showed signs of nervousness; and Cathead furtively glanced at the window by means of which they had entered, as if to be sure that it was still there. But Sube was no craven. He let out a howl of derision.
"That big boob! Ha—a—a ha! He's a big bag of wind! Why, he wouldn't hurt a fly! Say, I ain't any more afraid of him than I am of ol' Joe! You know what I'd do to him if he should come buttin' in here? I'd take 'im down into that little ol' mershum swimmin'-hole, and I'd duck 'im and duck 'im till he went home bellerin'! Gee! I wisht he would come in here. Wouldn't we have fun with him, though!"