“There he goes again!” burst from Ready. “I never suspected it of him. Crown him with laurels and adorn him with bays.”
“What is the difference between the bay and the laurel, Jack?” laughed Frank.
“Ask me not at this unpropitious moment,” entreated the odd fellow. “We have been meandering hither and yon over Omaha—yea verily, we have been even as far as the stockyards of South Omaha. We have waded across streets that were guiltless of being cleaned even since the day they were paved. We have ascended streets which led into the clouds, and we have descended others which led into the gorges and valleys. We have gazed in awe upon the courthouse, with blind justice standing on its battlements, balances in hand. We have seen the post office and expressed our admiration. Alas and alack, we are wearied! We fain would rest. Omaha is all right for those who think so; but some day she will rise and butcher her street-cleaning department. She will be justified. I have spoke.”
With this he dropped on a chair and fanned himself weakly.
“What have you fellows been dud-dud-doing?” inquired Gamp, noticing for the first time that the boys were in bath robes and that fencing paraphernalia was scattered about the room.
Frank explained that they had been fencing.
“Jee-whickers!” cried Joe. “You used to be pretty good at it when you were at cuc-cuc-college. You were the champion fuf-fuf-fuf-fencer at Yale, all right.”
“He’s just as good to-day as he ever was,” declared Bart; “and Mr. Darleton will find out that is good enough.”
“Who’s Darleton?” asked Stretcher.
Then they were told about the affair at the club, which quickly awoke their interest.