“I’ll go with pleasure,” said Bobby, “and not by any means just for the news. When do you want to go?”
“Oh, right away, I guess. I’ll telephone to Shepherd and have him order a rig.”
“What’s the use?” demanded Bobby, much interested. “My car’s right within call. I’ll have it brought up.”
Shepherd, the chief engineer of the G. E. and W., when they picked him up at the hotel, proved to be an entire human being with red whiskers and not a care in the world. Bobby was enjoying a lot of preliminary persiflage when Shepherd incidentally mentioned their destination.
“It is known as Westmarsh,” he observed. “I suppose you know where it is.”
Bobby, who had already started the machine and had placed his hand on the steering wheel, gave a jerk so violent that he almost sent the machine diagonally across the street, and Ferris laughed aloud. His little joke was no longer a secret.
“Westmarsh!” Bobby repeated. “Why, I own that undrainable swamp.”
“Swamp?” exclaimed Shepherd. “It’s as dry as a bone. I looked it over last night and am going out to-day to study the possible approaches to it.”
“But you say it is dry!” protested Bobby, unable to believe it.
“Dry as powder,” asserted Shepherd. “There has been an immense amount of water out there, but it has been well taken care of by the splendid drainage system that has been put in.”