“Did Noddy say anything to you, Andy?” asked Ned, as the tire was being put back on the wheel.
“Nope! Never talks to me—guess he doesn’t like me—thinks I’m too much of a runt, I guess. He’s laying for you fellers.”
“What do you mean—laying for us?” demanded Jerry.
“Oh, nothing special, but I mean he was always picking on you, wasn’t he?”
“That’s right,” admitted Bob Baker. “But he’d better not try it any more. I’ll tell him where he gets off.”
“The same here,” echoed Ned.
The puncture having been repaired, Andy hastened back in the small car he had so unceremoniously borrowed to go to the fire.
“See you later,” he called. “Watch out for Noddy—bad egg—Jack Pender, too—don’t tell Bachman I had a puncture—what he doesn’t know won’t hurt him—anyhow, it’s mended—maybe there’ll be another fire this afternoon—give me a ride in your new car, Bob—see you later—good-by—whoop!”
“Thank goodness, he’s gone!” murmured Jerry, as he and his chums entered the big machine, having said good-by to those whom they had helped.