Nance nodded.
"After you've starved him to death you hang him up on the sunny side of the house till he becomes a shadow. A shadow, you understand? Well, after he's become a shadow you let the shadow drop into a barrel of rainwater. The result is spirit soup. Serve a teaspoonful a day as directed," added Stacy, coming to a sudden stop as Ned trod on his toes with a savage heel.
Jim Nance's whiskers stood out, the ends trembling as if from the agitation of their owner, causing Chunky to shrink within himself.
"Very unseemly, young man," rebuked the Professor.
"It seems so," muttered Walter under his breath; then all hands laughed heartily.
The meal being finished, Nance ordered a three-seated buckboard brought around. Into this the whole outfit piled until the bottom of the vehicle bent almost to the ground.
"Will it hold?" questioned the Professor apprehensively.
"I reckon it will if it doesn't break. We'll let the fat boy walk if we've got too big a load," Nance added, with a twinkle.
"No, I'll ride, sir," spoke up Stacy promptly. "I'm very delicate and
I'm not allowed to walk, because——-"
"How far is it out to the corral, Mr. Nance?" questioned Tad.