“Besides,” declared Jack, “we were in some pretty tight places on the Mexican border, and yet came through with flying colors. And I’m confident we will do so again.”
Mr. Temple even essayed a trace of a smile, as he regarded the tall, handsome, curly-haired lad. Jack was a year older than Bob and, though not so stout of frame, was fully as tall. Both were an inch under six feet. And Jack, like his companions, was hard as nails.
“Why, Jack,” said Mr. Temple, “I believe you like to be in a bad hole. Actually, I believe you are enjoying yourself.”
“Bob and Jack had most of the fun on the Mexican border, flying to the Calomares ranch and rescuing Mr. Hampton, while I was left behind at the cave with nothing to do but——”
Big Bob thwacked his chum on the back resoundingly.
“Yes, with nothing to do but save the day and half kill a husky Mexican officer,” he said. “You certainly were out of luck!”
“Oh, that’s all right,” said Frank. “Just the
same, you fellows had more fun out of that adventure than I did. Now it looks as if I was declared in. And I can’t say that I’m entirely grief-stricken.”
Mr. Temple shook his head.
“You boys will be the death of me,” he said.