“At him, boys. At him,” cried Jack, making a flying tackle.
His arms closed about Bob’s waist. At the same time, Frank who had been standing to one side, dived in. His grip tightened about Bob’s legs below the knees. All three lads rolled over in the sand in a laughing, struggling heap. Presently, Jack and Frank bestrode the form of their big chum and Frank, who sat on his chest, gripped Bob’s crisply curling hair.
“Now will you tell?” he demanded in mock ferocity. “If you don’t––”
“All right, you big bully,” answered Bob. “Why don’t you pick on a fellow your size?”
With which remark, he gave a mighty heave—as Frank afterwards described it “like a whale with a tummyache”—and Frank and Jack went sprawling. Then he stood upright, brushing the sand from his khaki walking clothes. 8
“Oh, is that you down there?” he asked. “Why, where did you come from?”
Then, as Frank made a clutch for his ankle, he brushed him aside and sat down on the sand:
“Say, listen, cut out the fooling. I’ve got something to tell you fellows.”
Bob was so plainly excited that his chums were impressed. Scrambling up they seated themselves beside him.
“Fire away,” said Jack.