Apparently, the three fellows perched on the Virginia rail fence had agreed to wait for others who were to join them in starting for the favorite "swimmin' hole," for their conversation betrayed this fact.
Lil Artha began to grow a little impatient. He wiped his perspiring face and in so many words gave his two chums to understand that if the laggards did not put in an appearance inside of ten minutes he meant to start without them.
"A fine lot of scouts Chatz and Landy are showing themselves to be, not keeping their word," the tall boy grumbled; "there, didn't you hear the clock strike ten? They were to be here not later than a quarter to the hour."
"Oh! well, you know Chatz isn't in a hurry," chuckled Toby. "Fellows raised down in Dixie are used to taking their time. It's the warm climate that does it, he told me. But speaking of angels and you hear their wings, they say; for unless my eyes deceive me there comes Chatz right now."
"Yeth, and thauntering along like he might be away ahead of the time thet for meeting here. Chatz ith what I call a cool cuthtomer."
When the fourth lad joined the bunch, there was a lot of good-natured badinage indulged in all around, after the manner of boys in general.
"Do you intend waiting any longer fo' Landy?" asked the newcomer.
At that remark the other laughed uproariously.
"It makes me think of the full 'bus," said Lil Artha; "when it stops to take on another passenger they all look cross; and he squeezes into a seat wondering why people will act so piggish; but let it stop again for another fare and he grumbles louder than anybody else."
"Yeth, we've waited fifteen minutes for you, Chatz," said Ted, "and it'd be only fair to give poor, fat Landy ten minutes more."