“Fine,” says Mark, and in a minute Old Hans gave him the picture and Mark turned around to where we were.
“How you comin’?” says he.
“Poor,” says I.
“How about you?” says Plunk.
“P-perty good,” says Mark. “I got four.”
“Four,” says I. “So quick! How’d you do it, and who be they?”
“Well, there’s Richter, and old man Meigs, our leadin’ veteran of the Civil War, and Grandad Jones, that crossed the plains in a p-prairie schooner, and Uncle Ike Bond.”
“I surrender,” says I. “If you kin git them old coots you kin git anybody. I’m through. Nobody’ll listen to me or Plunk. You sail in and git ’em.”
He grinned the way he does when he’s tickled with himself and when he knows folks are appreciating what a brainy kid he is.
“It’s easy,” says he. “Just m-make ’em feel how important they are. You f-fellows go and see what news you can p-pick up. I’ll git in these pictures.”