"No, an idea," responded the boy recklessly, forgetting his own comments on Tubby's inspiration.
"Ho! ho! ho!" howled the stout youth delightedly. "Step up, ladies and gentlemen, and see the eighth—or ninth wonder of the world—Rob Blake has an idea. Step up lively now, before the little creature gets away."
"We can borrow some potatoes from Soapy Sam," said Rob, when some of the laughter at his expense had subsided.
"Borrow them?" exclaimed Bill Simmons. "I guess it will mean giving them. What I couldn't do to a potato with this bat——"
He flourished the piece of lumber Jeb Cotton had shaped, as he spoke. However, Rob's suggestion was tried; but even as Bill Simmons had prophesied, the borrowed potatoes did not prove a success as baseballs. One after another, they were scattered into tiny fragments, and Soapy Sam, on being requisitioned for more, threatened to evict the entire party from his premises.
"Oh, pshaw!" exclaimed Tubby petulantly. "What'll we do?"
"Go swimming," laughed Merritt.
"I have it," exclaimed Rob suddenly.
"He's got it again—a relapse of ideas," grinned Tubby.
"What's the matter with climbing that cliff and exploring those old cave dwellings?"