"I'm going to ship some potatoes to Chicago," he said abruptly, without any preface. "I want to know whether they'll be safe from freezing on the way."
There was a moment's dead silence. The boys had not bargained for such a point-blank demand for help, and it took them off their feet. One looked at the other and several shuffled uncomfortably. The Forecaster watched the lads keenly, interested to see how they would face the issue. Ross spoke first.
"Well, Mr. Tighe," he said hesitatingly, "we haven't done any figuring on the weather outside this neighborhood, as yet."
This cautious attitude did not appeal to Fred, who always wanted to plunge in head first.
"Sure we can, Ross!" he declared.
The president of the League looked inquiringly at his mainstay, the silent Bob, and, in answer to his unspoken question, the other nodded.
"We could try it, of course, if you wanted us to," agreed Ross.
"Ain't I asking you to?" said their visitor, sharply.
"But suppose we don't get it just right?" Ross queried.
"That's the chance I'm taking," the farmer replied. "But there's no doubt that you know a lot more about it than I do, and your guess is likely to be nearer than mine. Those potatoes have just got to go to Chicago some time next week, anyway."