The two boys laid their heads together, and arrived at the conclusion that the world is not hollow, after all; and that if they were not heroes yet, a few years would make them so.
“The stuff is in us, Will; all we have to do is to work it up.”
“Yes, Henry; and when you come to see me, the people in our neighborhood had better be prepared. There are no captives for us to rescue, but I guess you can hit on something good.”
“Why, Will,” said Henry, smiling his delight, “you are almost getting to be like any other boy! You—you talk sensibly. What has come over you?”
“Well, when I saw that good came from our journey to the cave, and that we rescued my uncle, I concluded that I had been wrong and you right. I guess it’s safe to play tricks with you, anyway; and——”
“‘Tricks!’” echoed Henry, scowling horribly.
“No, no!” Will hastily declared. “I—I—mean—Henry—Don’t be vexed, Henry; I meant stratagems!”
The affronted patient softened. “Yes, that is the word you meant, Will,” he said, “but you always ought to say what you mean. I always do; and so I never have to stumble, and correct myself, and appear as though I don’t know what I’m talking about.”
Will’s eyes expressed a mild rebuke.
Henry was not fluent in making apologies; on this occasion he simply said, with a look of pain that spoke volumes in his behalf: “It’s in my left knee, Will; hand me that bottle, please.”