“Here’s a problem for you to solve when you get through with all the others,” grinned Carl. “I want you to tell me why that Chink wasted our gasoline, and then warned us not to use the machine.”
“I give it up!” declared Ben. “There’s no use of trying to guess it out! It’s just another little old mystery!”
“And why did he pretend that he couldn’t understand English?” persisted Carl. “Was that in order that he might hear what we were talking about without our suspecting that he was listening with the intention of betraying us? It seems to me that that must be it.”
“I tell you I don’t know!” almost shouted Ben, “and I’m not going to puzzle over the matter any longer. Here we are up on a bald old peak without any show of ever getting our machine down to the ground again, and that’s enough for me to brood over for the time being.”
“This is a beautiful view from this mountain!” suggested Carl, with a grin. “Note the sunlight on the valleys below.”
“Aw, dry up!” cried Ben. “What’s the use of rubbing it in?”
“But,” urged Carl, “just think of the situation Noah was in when he landed his Ark on top of a mountain!”
Ben threw a pebble at his chum and turned moodily away.
“I wouldn’t have your disposition for a barrel of gasoline!” laughed Carl.
“I wish I could trade my disposition for a barrel of gasoline,” grinned Ben. “That might help some.”