"Did he dream himself tied up with cords cutting in so sharp they left red welts and took half hour to get circulation going?" demanded Chick-chick who had overheard.
"Red welts nothing!" retorted Matt. "I could raise red welts all over my body and never feel it."
"You keep makin' insinuations an' I know fellow'll raise red welts on you so you won't feel anything for month," threatened Chick-chick. "I felt those welts. Saw 'em too. Plain as the ridges on a non-skid tire. Anybody's thinks Brick had 'em made for fun can get all that kind o' fun he wants."
"What's the trouble, scouts?"
It was Mr. Newton, his attention drawn by the angry tones.
"Explainin' 'bout Brick's body marks," said Chick-chick.
"I think you've talked long enough." Mr. Newton easily guessed the quarrel. "Go along with Corliss and Glen and work your tongue on your supper. You other fellows see they get filled up."
Glen had rushed to Will Spencer at his first free moment, but the supper table gave him his first real chance for conversation with him. Will had his billy cart pushed up where he could clap Glen on the shoulder and tell him again how glad he was to see him safe and sound.
"Nice, comfortable day you've given your Uncle Bill," he said in cheerful accusation.
"Did you worry about me?" asked Glen.