By the time the boys had reached the hotel the English guests had gone to their apartments, but Mr. Mackworth and Mr. Graham were yet in the office surrounded by luggage. Mr. Mackworth at once clasped his hands on the shoulder of each boy.
“Well, howdy do again?” he began with a cheery chuckle. “Everything workin’ fine? All ready to be off?”
“I’m afraid you’ll have to see father and mother again,” laughed Frank. “But the Loon is all ready—”
“I’ll see your mother this evening,” Mr. Mackworth replied. “You ain’t holdin’ out, are you, Graham?” he went on with a pretended scowl.
“Well,” answered Mr. Graham, “I can’t say that I’ll have the heart to stop your excursion, crazy as it is. But the mothers of these two boys—”
“Say, Graham,” interrupted Mr. Mackworth with a sly wink, “in that mess of stuff, somewhere, is a Greener shotgun. I had it made in London and I’ve toted it all the way here for you,” striking Mr. Graham on the back. “Now you don’t suppose I’m goin’ to turn it over to anyone who’s ungenerous enough to stop our fun?”
Mr. Graham’s sporting blood was stirred. Next to trout fishing he loved partridge shooting and this particular gun he had had in mind for years.
“Boys,” he said in turn, laughing, “you see how it is; I’ve been bribed. Settle it with their mothers, Mackworth. I might as well consent and have it over.”
This having been practically settled Frank made a suggestion: