"Now, now, Ned!" warned the boys. "Take your medicine like a man. Chunky never got mad when you nagged him."
"I'll get even with him. I'll——"
Tad rode up beside the angry lad.
"Ned, you'll do nothing of the sort," said the boy gently. "You're mad, now, because your toes hurt. When they stop aching your temper will improve at the same time."
"Oh, pshaw! Stop your preaching. Of course it will. I'm a grouch. I take back all I said just now. Chunky, when these toes get straightened out—they're all crooked now—I'll come over and hobnob with you. I deserve all you can give me."
"You bet you do," chorused the lads.
"Stop teasing him," commanded Stacy, with well-feigned indignation. "Can't you see his toes hurt him?"
The incident was lost sight of in the general laugh that followed. The others were beginning to appreciate that Stacy Brown possessed a tongue as sharp as any of them.
Ned now offered no further protest to entering the village, but it was observed that he dropped back behind the others as they reached the outskirts of the town.
Tom Parry and Professor Zepplin were riding ahead, one in pajamas, the other clad in trunks—which resembled a meal sack—a sombrero hat and a sardonic grin of defiance. The others trailed along behind.