“We’ll have to explain to Her Highness,” the younger boy declared.
“Sure thing. She’ll be disappointed unless there’s a lot of air work to it, and I have a hunch there will be.”
“Oh, boys—”
“Yes Aunt Belle,” Bob shouted.
“Do you know where your uncle is working?” Mrs. Fenton called from the roadway. “There’s a telephone message for him.”
“We’ll find him for you,” Jim promised. They hurried off in the direction Mr. Fenton had taken when he left them and soon the sound of a hammer ringing in the distance informed them they were on the right trail. A moment later they could see the man repairing a place in the rail fence that bounded the pasture.
“Uncle Norman, you’re wanted on the telephone,” Bob roared.
“All right, coming,” the man waved, and dropping his work, came as fast as his long legs could carry him.
“Guess you’re party’s holding the line,” Jim volunteered.
“They don’t mind that around here,” Mr. Fenton replied. He went ahead and the boys followed more leisurely.