"I'll raise you five on my ankle, Rube," groaned Potts in fake agony.
A half hour of delicious rest elapsed before Benz, as medicine man, declared his patient, Potts, able to stand upon his pins again and undertake the treacherous journey townward. During this time every member of the party had sufficiently recovered his sea legs to trust themselves to a half mile jaunt. Judd, restless and extremely desirous of completing the trip, redoubled his speed.
Potts kept up well for the first hundred yards, then began to hobble painfully. "My ankle, Rube!" he moaned. "Have some consideration!"
"Pardon me, I'd plumb forgotten that you bruised your shin!" Judd slowed up. Fifteen minutes later an exhausted looking party dragged themselves into Tarlton.
"Stranger, can you direct me the shortest way to a free lunch?" asked
Pole, hailing a passer-by.
"And a free bed?" added Potts.
"Walker's lunch room next block down," informed the stranger, gruffly.
"That's just the place for us! Get the name? W-a-l-k-e-r's lunch. Zowie! Lead me to it!" cried Oole, a big, good-natured Hollander, who played left tackle on the varsity. "Jus' give me a chance to feed my face! Yah!"
After the fellows had partaken of a good meal they felt revived enough to attend any fair, and inspired by Walker's lunch they walked another half mile to the fair grounds.
Everything was going full blast when they arrived. Merry-go-rounds, ferris wheels, confetti stands, lemonade and taffy booths, were all reaping their harvests. Even the fat man was entertaining large audiences. The fellows had a thoroughly good time and took in almost every sight on the grounds. Judd had been kidded and made fun of until he was followed about by a troop of youngsters who thought he was a clown employed by the fair people. Judd was really embarrassed and noticeably awkward.