“I see you boys are goin’ some place,” Mr. Manley said, as he stood at the door of their room, hands deep in his pockets, corncob pipe emitting clouds of fragrant smoke.
“Taking a ride,” Teddy answered, without turning. He was adjusting his tie at the mirror. Roy, beside him, was occupied in the same manner. Teddy just touched his brother with his elbow, and winked in the glass.
“Well—er—any particular place?” their father asked innocently.
“Vienna,” Teddy replied, grinning.
“Vienna, hey?” Mr. Manley considered this for a moment. “Goin’ to a show there?”
“Nope,” and Teddy winked again. “Just going to loaf around a bit.”
“Goin’ to loaf around—” Then Mr. Manley woke up and sent out a roar of laughter. “Good shot, Teddy! You’re gettin’ better! Be almost a match for me soon. Well, good luck to you, an’ don’t take any wooden nickels!” Still chuckling, he tramped away.
“Dad seems to be O. K. now,” Roy remarked, as he gave his tie a final twist. “I’m glad to notice it. I don’t like to see him worried. Come along, you look beautiful! Get a move on! We’ve got to get started.”
“Just a second.”
Opening the top drawer of the dresser, Teddy took out two pistols, both smaller than the large guns usually carried in that vicinity. One of these he handed to Roy and the other he placed in an upper inside pocket under his left arm. Roy nodded in approval.