“And Terry here,” Jimmie cried pushing the crook forward, “lost his stock of wet goods when he left the cave!”
Terry, who had been very nervous during the ride through the air, and who now lay sprawled out on the ground as if he never intended to leave solid earth again, gravely took two pint bottles filled with brandy from his pockets and set them out on the grass at his side. Then he rolled over and took a bottle of whiskey from another pocket. This he ranged with the others standing them all in a row so that the firelight gave their contents deep ruby tints.
“It’s a cold day when I get left for a drink!” he exclaimed, with a cunning leer, as he pointed to the three bottles.
After the boys had related their adventures they proceeded to cook supper, and while this was being consumed they discussed the situation at the camp which DuBois had deserted.
“What’s the idea of accusing you of stealing that burro?” asked Jimmie turning to the Englishman.
“That’s a beastly shame, don’t you know!” exclaimed DuBois.
“You didn’t steal the burro, of course?” asked Mr. Havens.
“Look here!” exclaimed the Englishman. “Do I look like a person who would be apt to steal a mountain burro?”
“You certainly do not!” replied the aviator.
“Of course, it’s a frame-up!” declared Jimmie.