“Hurrah! Shadow is stuck on the needle joke!” announced Dave. “Anyhow, it would seem so.”
“Jumping tadpoles!” ejaculated Roger. “Boys, did you catch that?”
“Catch what?” asked Phil innocently.
“Phil wasn’t born a tailor, so maybe he never knew what it was to seam sew anything.”
“Whoop! I’ll pummel you for that!” roared the ship-owner’s son, and made a sweep at Dave with his suit-case.
But the latter dodged, and the suit-case landed with a bang on Shadow’s shoulder, sending the story-teller to the ground.
“Say, Phil Lawrence, you be careful!” cried the prostrate youth, as he scrambled up. “What do you think I am—a punching-bag?”
“Ten thousand pardons, Shadow, and then some!” cried the ship-owner’s son contritely. “I was aiming to put Dave in the hospital, that’s all.”
“Come on and get busy and let us be off to the camp,” broke in Roger. “We’ll have plenty of time for horse-play later. We want to show you fellows a whole lot of things.”
Dave insisted upon carrying one of the suit-cases, while Roger took another. Soon all of the hand-baggage was securely fastened to the saddles of the horses, and then the boys started on the journey to the construction camp. They took their time, and numerous were the questions asked and answered on the way.