“Huh! shows your ignorance when you say that,” snorted Nat. “When a dramatist gets up a show he always wants to try it on the dog first, before it’s played in a big city. So I want to get what they call inspiration by seeing just how scared Limpy Peters will be when I groan, and carry on.”
“Shame on you, Nat!” said Leslie Capes, indignantly.
“Yes, and a whole lot of us echo that sentiment,” Dick went on to say. “Poor old Limpy Peters has suffered terribly in his life. Nearly every boy in Cliffwood thinks a heap of the old man, and for one I won’t stand by and hear of his being pestered, as you say, just to give you ‘inspiration.’”
“Huh! you talk pretty big, Dick Horner,” snapped Nat, with one of his lofty looks. “What’d you do about it if I said I’d carry on as I pleased?”
Dick faced him with flashing eyes. Somehow he was fully aroused by now, and meant to give the other a piece of his mind.
“I’ll tell you what I’ll do for one thing!” he exclaimed, “and unless I miss my guess, there are a lot of other fellows here who feel the same way. I’ll tell Mr. Holwell about your scheme, and he’ll see to it that old Peters is warned. Then if you try what you threaten you may get in a peck of trouble.”
“That’s my way of thinking, too!” asserted Leslie, instantly ranging alongside of his chum. “We listened to you on Hallowe’en, and came near getting arrested for entering Mr. Nocker’s house to give him a scare.”
“Better forget about this idea, Nat,” warned Peg Fosdick. “For one I’d never stand to hear of poor old Peters being scared half to death. I know what it is to limp myself, and can feel for the lame cobbler.”
“Count me in as being opposed to that sort of cruel joke!” declared Andy Hale.
“Ditto here!” sang out Clint Babbett. “Time’s gone by when I could get any real fun out of giving pain to other people.”