“Shucks,” deprecated Hotch, “I’ve got a voice like a foghorn. But here goes.”
He threw back his head and went at it.
“I once knew a girl in the year of eighty-nine—
A handsome young thing by the name of Emmaline—
I never could persuade her for to leave me be,
And she went and she took and she married me-e-e!”
A chorus of groans greeted Hotchkiss’ attempt.
“That’s a ranch song, Hotch,” said Bleeker sternly, “and it is not in good taste. Try again. We——”
But Hotchkiss did not get a chance to try again. Bleeker’s words were cut short by the clear, yet distant, note of a firearm.
The fun stopped as though by magic. All the boys cast startled glances at each other.