“The mean fellow!” muttered Roger.
“I told him that you and Roger were going to the Wadsworth house at the time, and were home when the watchman telephoned, but he only tossed his head as if he didn’t believe a word of it, and said he guessed Dave could tell something if he was of a mind to talk.”
“If that isn’t Poole to a T!” cried Phil.
“If I were you, Dave, I’d punch his head for him,” was Shadow’s advice.
“That wouldn’t do any good,” said Ben. “You can’t stop Nat from talking any more than you can stop water from running out of a sieve.”
“Which puts me in mind of another story,” burst out Shadow, eagerly. “Once two men——”
“Oh, Shadow, another?” cried Buster, reproachfully.
“I know that story—it’s moss-covered with age,” announced Roger.
“What is it?” demanded the story-teller of Oak Hall.
“Two men—bet—carry water in a sieve—bet taken—water frozen. Ha! ha! Shadow, I got you that time.”