Tad shook his head smiling, declining to give names.
But Chunky was growing wrathful. A look of suspicion in his eyes, he began to glare around at the other boys. Even staid old Professor Zepplin he regarded with considerable disfavor.
"The trouble with you fellows," broke in Chunky, after two full minutes of actual silence, "is that you can't recognize genius and greatness when you mix up with them. You're always picking on me, you fellows. You—"
Choking with indignation, Stacy rose and began to walk away, his fists clenched. But Tad Butler, with a laugh, leaped up and darted after the offended boy.
"Stacy, old fellow, why be so touchy? What on earth would we do on our trips if we didn't have you along? Who would supply the fun and the jokes for us?"
Tad forced open the boy's right fist, then shook hands with him, smiling the while.
"I'm never going out with you fellows on another trip," Stacy declared stubbornly.
"How are your folks going to stop you?" Tad wanted to know. "Are they going to tie you hand and foot, and lash you down to rings in the floor of the Brown mansion. Oh, pshaw! Forget it!"
"They won't have to," growled Stacy. "I don't want to go anywhere with you fellows any more."
"You come right back and shake hands with Walter and Ned," Tad commanded. "Then you may tell them about your new resolve."