There was much more of this sort of chaffing, but Dick took it all good-naturedly and passed on his way. Buckhart was sitting on the steps of the house on York Street.
“Hey, pard!” he cried. “Waiting for you. She’s a baby!”
“Who’s a baby?” asked Dick, in surprise.
“My Sallie.”
“Your who?”
“Sallie. She’s a trim little girl. Light and airy and just my size.”
“Say, what ails you?”
“Come on and let’s hit the grub pile,” said Brad. “After we fill our baskets I’m going to introduce you to Sallie. You’ll love her, I know you will.”
“I think you had better excuse me,” said Dick. “I’m too busy just now to make the acquaintance of your Sallie, whoever the delightful damsel is.”
The Texan chuckled but continued to insist that Dick must meet Sallie. Nor would Brad accept no for an answer. In the soft twilight they made their way down to the harbor front, and there, lying among other boats at a float, was one toward which the Texan led his chum.