Silence greeted the announcement of Jerry Hopkins, and for a few moments all gazed downward on the horsemen below them—that is, all but Professor Snodgrass. It would need something more than this to take him away from his notebooks.
“Just show ’em that we don’t care about ’em,” proposed Ned. “Scoot down toward ’em, Jerry, and then speed up for all you’re worth. We can easily leave ’em behind.”
“That’s right,” chimed in Bob. “You do that, and I’ll see about getting something to eat.”
“Something to eat!” exclaimed Jim Nestor. “Why, we had breakfast only a little while ago.”
“You don’t know Chunky,” said Jerry, with a smile. “From now on he’s going to live in the cooking galley.”
“I am not!” indignantly exclaimed the stout lad. “And if I did, I guess you fellows would be glad of it, for you’re generally as hungry as I am.”
“All right, Chunky, we’ll forgive you,” spoke Ned.
“But, how about fooling Noddy, Jerry?”
“I guess it won’t do any harm. Here goes.”