"Buy them!" they shouted. "Say, are you dafty, man? Where would the fun come in? You know better than to propose such a thing."
"Stolen fruit is ever the sweetest," quoth Uncle Blossom. "It's not many fellows we would take into such a scheme, but you were just the man we wanted, Merriwell. If we bought a turkey we wouldn't have any appetite for it. Now, the run out into the country and back will give us an appetite. One fellow will have to stay here and get the fire ready, while the rest of us chase turks. Come on, man—it's what you need to start your blood circulating."
Merriwell seemed to suddenly make up his mind.
"I am with you," he said as he arose. "Who stays and looks after the fire? We don't want anybody along that can't run."
"Well, I'm no sprinter," confessed Dismal. "I'd like to go along, but I'm afraid I'd peg out. I'll have things ready when you show up. But what time will you be back?"
Frank looked at his watch and then made a mental calculation.
"It will be about eleven," he said.
"All right."
"Say, Jones," said Street, "just go down to Billy's and get a few bottles of beer. We'll need it to wash the turk down."
"And cigars," cried Blossom. "Don't forget cigars. What would a turkey feast be without a smoke afterward?"