“Um, um!” muttered Rattleton, lifting one hand to his throat. “Why do you suppose a fellow’s larynx is called his Adam’s apple?”
“Nothing could be more appropriate,” declared Bruce, soberly, “for when Adam ate the apple he got it in the neck.”
Something like a cackling laugh came from Harry’s parched lips.
Diamond gave an exclamation of disgust.
“This is a nice time to joke!” he grated, fiercely.
“The matter with you,” said Rattleton, “is that you’ve not got over thinking of Lona Ayer, whom you were mashed on. You’ve been grouchy ever since you and Merry came back from your wild expedition into the forbidden Valley of Bethsada. It’s too bad, Jack——”
“Shut up, will you! I’ve heard enough about that!”
“Drop it, Harry,” commanded Frank, warningly. “You’ve worn it out. Forget it.”
“Great Scott!” grunted Browning. “I believe my bicycle is heavier than the dealer represented it to be.”
“Think so?” asked Rattleton.