CHAPTER VII.
JOHN HENRY GETS A SURPRISE.
The following day Bunch and I attended to the shipping of all the scenery and props and trick stuff, and we were two busy lads, believe me.
On Wednesday we tried all day to locate Skinski, but he avoided punishment until about four o'clock in the afternoon, when we finally flagged him and began to ask him questions.
"I've been busy since Monday," he explained; "brokers and bankers and lawyers, and there are doings. Say! you're two of the dead gamest sports I ever bumped into, and no matter what happens I'm for you for keeps!"
"What's the reason for the crab talk?" I asked sharply. "Are you going to give us the sorry hand and bow yourself out after we have put up every mazooboe we possess? What kind of a sour face are you pulling on us?"
"Oh! pinkies!" he came back. "Did I say anything about quitting you? Why, I wouldn't give you guys a cold deal not for Morgan's bank roll. I only wanted to prepare you for certain big happenings in case there are real doings with that gold mine out in the Blue Hills."
"Sush!" I laughed; "then it's only the hasheesh. But, Skinski, on the level, I do wish you'd quit smoking those No. 4's; they'll ruin your imagination."
"Wait and see," smirked Skinski. "And, by the way, nephew Bunch, I met a certain old party this morning who thinks you are very hot fried parsnips!"
"You did," Bunch came back, with a yawn.