"Oh, I see! That's the flee that fled, not the flea who refuses to flee," went on Tom. And at this sally, the other boys laughed.
"Never mind, give us the rest of it," put in Spud.
"There isn't any 'rest'—not yet," answered the would-be poet. And then the bays resumed the row up the river.
CHAPTER XIII
AT THE FARM
"All aboard who are going! We haven't any time to spare if you want to catch that nine-fifteen train."
"Good-bye, Tom, don't forget to write."
"Say, Spud, when you get down to the Maine coast, don't eat too many lobsters."
"And that puts me in mind, Stanley. When you reach the Grand Canyon, send me a piece of rock; I want to see how the Canyon looks."
"Say, whose baseball mitt is this anyway?" And following this question, the mitt came sailing through the air, to land on the floor of the Brill carryall.