“Good Lord! Now there’ll be a muss!”
Frank caught up the brush and continued the work of putting up the sheet of paper.
Riddle came up panting.
“Here!” he shouted, as he approached; “what in thunder are you doing?”
Frank made a skillful swipe up the middle of the sheet with his brush, securing the paper at one stroke, then swiftly stroked it to the right and left, affixing it in its proper place.
“You seem to be excited, Mr. Riddle,” he coolly observed, as King’s advance man came tearing up.
“I want to know what in blazes you are doing!” roared Riddle, wrathfully, his face fairly purple.
“Putting up paper!”
“But you’re putting it over our paper.”
“I know it.”