"Time's up," called Dick. "Dave to the bat."
Smiling, Darry packed his own parcels in the cart.
"Whew! But it's good to get away from that thing," grunted Reade, mopping his forehead, as he stalked on ahead.
"Here, you, Tom!" called Danny Grin. "Take your personal pack off the cart and tote it like the rest of us."
Reade turned a comically scowling face to Dalzell.
"Danny," he demanded rebukingly, "why couldn't you hold your tongue?"
"Because, when I'm working hard, I don't like to see you shirk," replied Dalzell with a complacent grin.
"But consider Darry," urged Reade. "Note how strong, lithe and supple he is. Boy, he is much better fitted for pushing my personal pack on the cart than I am for carrying it."
"Stick a pin in the chat, Tom," advised Darrin briefly, "and take your truck off the cart. I want to begin enjoying myself."
"I'd carry twice as much as I have to, just for the sheer joy of hearing you kick like a Texas maverick by the time you've had the cart handles for two minutes," laughed Tom, as he took his own parcels off the cart. "Now, David, little giant, let us see you buckle down to your task—-like a real or imitation man!"