"Say, what ails you?" demanded Tad, putting down by supreme force of will, his own inclination to yawn.
"I—I guess—yah—it must be the—the mountain air. Yah-hum," yawned the fat boy.
Pink-eye coughed off among the cedars.
"What means all this disturbance, young gentlemen?" demanded the
Professor.
"It's Chunky and the bronchos yawning," Ned Rector informed him.
"So did you," observed Stacy Brown.
"Did what?"
"Yawned. See, see! Your mouth's open now. You're going to yawn this very second You——"
His taunts were lost in the shouts of the Pony Riders. Ned Rector's face was set determinedly, a vacant expression having taken full possession of his eyes.
"He is going to yawn," announced Walter solemnly. "Stake down the camp."