“Oh, Smarty! You know what I mean. You meant Smash for me.”
“I put Smash in the story, yes; but you never did any such things as he did.”
Hal and Frank were very good friends, and Hal knew better than to take seriously Bad’s “fierce” attitude. He liked his warlike friend best when he was threatening to “clean somebody up.” There was something amusing about him when he was making one of his idle threats.
“Now, who’s going to tell us a story about the mummy?” inquired Mr. Frankland.
“I have one on that if nobody else has,” announced Dr. Byrd.
“Tell it,” cried several of the boys eagerly.
“It isn’t very long,” said the doctor; “but it fits in well with Hal’s story. The giant, by the way, had water on the brain: that’s why Smash was drowned.
“Well, Smash, by the way, was an Indian. And he had a brother whose name was Rash. This brother was continually doing the most outlandish things and performing the most wonderful feats. After the top of the giant’s head was cut off and his brains gone, the giant died. But as he was very stockily built, he did not fall over, but continued to stand there. Trees and bushes and grass and flowers grew all over and he became a mountain.
“Now, Rash was a witness of the death of Smash. He was sailing above in an airship—”
“What!”