“Of course it is,” was the quick answer. “You can go ahead now, Jerry,” he added, as though they had been waiting for him.
“Well, I like your nerve!” gasped Bob, who at length found his voice.
“That’s all right. I saw you had a vacant place!” exclaimed Andy, starting off in another “spasm.” Then he proceeded:
“I’ve got to get back to town in a hurry. Important message—dad told me not to forget, but I did—went to the ball game. Say, it was great; wasn’t it? That fly of Watson’s—up in the air—thought it would never come down—run around the bases—nobody out—whoop her up! Everybody run! Nobody out—all over!”
He had reared up in his seat to “explode” this, and now sank back again.
Jerry looked at the diminutive orator.
“Are you all through, Andy?” asked the tall lad, gently. “If you are, we’ll start, with your kind permission and attention. Only we’re not going back to town right away, so if you have an important message to deliver you’d better walk, or take a hop, skip and a jump into someone else’s car. We’re going to take a little ride, and we don’t know when we’ll get back.”
“Oh, well, I guess it isn’t so important after all,” spoke Andy, slowly. “I’ll go with you. I’ll leave the message when I come back. You are coming back; aren’t you?” he asked.
“No telling,” answered Ned, winking at Jerry. “We may take a notion to run over to San Francisco and spend the night.”
“Huh! I don’t care,” laughed Andy. “I’ll go along. I can telephone the message back, I guess. Let me go; will you?”