“Tut, tut, tut!” exclaimed Zenas. “Such vulgarity! Jag pot! Such slang! Bradley, you often make me blush with shame for you. I fear your travels are not doing you much good. I did hope to take you back to America quite changed and altered. I hoped to polish off your rough ways and eliminate the slang from your vocabulary. But, alas! I fear my efforts will be fruitless.”
The old man then launched into a lecture, to which the boys listened weariedly.
“I have given you a few things to serve as food for contemplation,” Zenas concluded. “I will now retire and let you think them over.”
When he was gone Dick turned to his friend, a puzzled expression on his face.
“What do you suppose the old boy is up to?” he asked.
“Hanged if I know,” admitted the Texan; “but I’ll be shot if I don’t think there’s something in the wind.”
“We must find out what it is. Colonel Stringer is something of a lusher, as well as a practical joker. I hear he was put out of the Hotel Abbat, in Alexandria, on account of some sort of practical joke in which he was concerned.”
There was a tap on their door and Dunbar Budthorne entered.
“What do you say, boys, to a trip to Citadel Hill to witness the sunset?” he asked. “Nadia wants to go.”
“Then I’m ready,” declared Buckhart, in a twinkling.