“Only my gammon, old chap. I’m as proud of you as any of ’em, and I only wish now that we were two great gals.”
“Why?” cried Mark, wonderingly, as he caught the hands extended to him by his friend.
“Because then I could hug you. But I can’t: it would be so Frenchy.”
“Fists’ll do,” said Mark, gripping Bob’s fingers with all his might.
“Yes, and we’re to stick to each other always.”
“Always.”
“Through thick and thin.”
“Through thick and thin.”
“Chums to the end.”
“To the very end, Bob.”