“No. Go to work—it will do yer good.”
“Will you tell me about Andy?”
“Well, if ye want to know so awful bad, Andy has gone back to Pine Run. He has found out the errors o’ his ways, an’ has sent fer me to take care o’ him. I don’t think he’ll be a-runnin’ away ag’in very soon.”
“Too bad! too bad!” And the mischievous Chet placed a handkerchief to his eyes.
“It’s wot a boy gits when he won’t mind his uncle,” went on Josiah Graham, stiffly. “After this I guess he’ll toe the mark! It’s a pity you ain’t got nobuddy to bring you to your senses.”
“Maybe you’d like to take me under your care?” suggested Chet, with a most woe-begone look on his face.
“No—I got my hands full with Andy. Here is my train, so I can’t talk to yer no longer. Go to work an’ earn somethin’ to eat, an’ the price o’ a railroad ticket.” And then Josiah Graham swung himself aboard the train, which pulled out from the station a moment later.
“Oh, Chet, how could you do it!” roared Andy, when the chums were alone. “I thought I’d split, listening to the talk!”
“Wouldn’t even give a fellow the price of a meal,” returned Chet, coolly. “Well, I rather think he’ll be surprised when he gets back to your cabin and finds everything locked up.” And then he, too, laughed heartily over the trick that had been played on Andy’s shiftless relative.