“And so you ran down to meet us—that was bully,” said the blocky man. His mood was now serious, and Mr. Birdseye set himself to reply in the same spirit. “What’s the prospects for a crowd over in Anneburg?”
“Couldn’t be better,” Mr. Birdseye told him. “Everybody in town that can walk, ride or crawl will be out to see you fellows play.”
“To see us play—that’s good!”
“The Mayor is going to be there, and ex-Governor Featherston—he’s about the biggest man we’ve got in Anneburg—and oh, just everybody.”
“Whosoever will, let him come, that’s our motto,” stated his vis-à-vis; “entertainment for man and beast. You’ll be there of course?”
“In a front seat—rooting my head off,” promised Mr. Birdseye, forgetting in the supreme joy of this supreme moment that he owed first duty to Anneburg’s own puny contenders. “Say, you fellows are just exactly like I thought you’d be—regular hellions. Well, it’s the old pep that counts.”
“You said it—the old pep is the thing.”
“What kind of a trip did you have coming up?”
“Fine—fine from the start.”
“And where do you go from Anneburg?”