"Pretty fair. How is it with you?" returned the captain.
"So, so," answered Stacy carelessly. "You heard about my getting shot, didn't you?"
"Oh, yes, I heard all about it."
"I got wounded in the fracas, I did. I'm going to France one of these days to fight the Huns. Then I suppose I shall get shotted up some more. You take it from me, though, I'll put some of those savages on the run before they get me," declared Chunky belligerently.
"Perhaps you will explain why your men ran away from us the other night, sir?" spoke up Walter.
"They were called away. I guess the 'possum hunt was too much for them," answered the Ranger with twinkling eyes. "You rather put it over my boys, young man," he said nodding at Stacy, whose face flushed a rosy red.
"What's that?" demanded the professor.
"Drove them out of their tent by unloading a bag of fleas on them. Ha, ha, ha! I guess you got revenge on them, young man. By the way, you're Brown, aren't you?"
"I was done brown down there in the bush that night. Mosquitoes were worse than a volley of rifle bullets."
"But—-I don't understand," protested the professor.