"Here's Herb and Tender," shouted Fly, who had gone to the window.
The southerner and his cousin were soon in the room, hot and perspiring from their rapid ride over.
"Good mornin', gentlemen," greeted the rancher's son cheerfully, throwing aside his hat, and pouring out a glass of water from a pitcher which stood on the table. "Have a drink, anybody? No? Then I'll drink it myself," and he drained the glass. Carl quickly brought another one for Tender Gray.
"Make room for Ike," ordered Herb, as the darky came laboring up the stairs, a huge box on his back. The boys met him at the landing, and helped him to deposit his heavy load on the floor.
"Dere's some more," announced Ike. "Greaser just brought one over for Mr. Fred Windham."
"What's that," exclaimed the latter in surprise. "Oh, I guess it's that stuff Mr. Stanton spoke about in the letter," he recollected.
"Yuh fellahs must be gwine to start a store foh sure," exclaimed Ike, as he dropped the second box with a thud.
"Look out—that one was full of ripe watermelon," responded Gray.
"Oh, golly," groaned the negro, "An' I 'most drapt it."
"Be very careful of the next one," warned Jerry, with mock seriousness. "It's loaded with spring chickens."