"What you got?" said Beany, "A sore throat?"
"I say not," cried his brother. "That's a symptom of scarlet fever. They would jug us in the detention ward. I'm goin' to have a splittin' headache."
"That's scarlet fever too," said his brother.
"Pick somethin' a boy's apt to have."
"Hot dogs then," said Beany. "I got an awful pain."
A delightful, dimply nurse met them at the Hospital. She heard their tale of woo sympathetically, and the boys, with a wisdom beyond their years, beamed back at her.
"I will fix you something that won't spoil all the rest of your day," she said; and quickly stirred something in a glass that looked suspiciously like ginger and tasted like red pepper.
They were still talking, "stallin' along" as Porky said afterwards, when a group of people came out of the inner office. Colonel Bright led the way, his daughter on his arm.
"Yes, indeed," he was saying to the doctor, "she will be all right now. It was a wonderfully narrow escape for both of them. Do all you can for Captain DuChassis. I'm sorry you won't let me take him home with me to-night. We are really very comfortably fixed in Syracuse."
"Well, that's lucky," sighed Porky. "We know where he is for a few hours anyhow. Now there wont be any murderin' done while we find out just what's what."