"Young feller, we usually git wet," snapped Curley Adams, his mouth so full of potatoes that they could scarcely understand him.
"He means where do we sleep?" spoke up Tad.
"Oh, in the usual place," answered the foreman. "The only difference is that the bed is not quite so hard as at other times."
"How's that, Mr. Stallings?" inquired Walter.
"Because there's usually a puddle of water under you. I've woke up many a morning on the plains with only my head out of water. I'd a' been drowned if I hadn't had the saddle under my head for a pillow. However, it doesn't matter a great sight. After it has been raining a little while a fellow can't get any wetter, so what's the odds?"
"That's what I say," added Ned Rector.
Stacy Brown shook his head, disapproval plainly written on his face.
"I don't agree with you. I have never been so wet that I couldn't be wetter."
"How about when you came out of the river at the end of a cow's tail this afternoon? Think you could have been any more wet?" jeered Ned.
"Sure thing. I might have drowned; then I'd been wet on the inside as well as the outside," answered the fat boy, wisely, his reply causing a ripple of merriment all around the party.