For several seconds after Jerry Hopkins had announced his willingness to tell his chums of his plan, he remained silent; so long, in fact, that Bob asked:
“Well, what about it, Jerry? Are you, too, thinking of the Seabury girls?”
“Not exactly,” was the answer, accompanied by a short laugh. “I was just considering the best method of presenting the matter to you fellows, so you wouldn’t get on your ears again; that’s all.”
“Punch him, Bob!” cried Ned suddenly. “You’re nearer than I am. The nerve of him! Insulting us like that!”
Bob playfully raised his fleshy fist with the intention of thumping Jerry in the side, but the other, with a quick motion, snapped a pebble from his thumb, and the little stone struck Bob on the end of the nose, causing him to wince.
“Ouch! Quit that!” the stout lad cried.
“That was just my way of calling the meeting to order,” declared Jerry. “I’m ready to proceed, now. My plan would be to make as long a trip as possible. It would be something of a record to fly from here to, say, Kansas or Colorado.”
“Why not to Arizona while you’re about it,” put in Bob, still rubbing his nose in a reflective manner. “Then we could see if Jim Nestor is giving us our share of the gold from our mine, though, of course, I only said that last for a joke,” he added hastily.
“You couldn’t make Arizona on one supply of gasolene,” objected Ned.
“Who said we could?” fired back Bob. The spirit of contention was not yet stilled, so Jerry hastened to add: