"There, ma'am, don't take on. I was only a-having my bit of fun," said Cal. "Maybe when these boys get their gasoline catamarang fixed up they'll give us a ride."
"But they cannot take all of us, sir," cried the lady, beginning to weep afresh.
"There, there, ma'am, never mind ther irrigation—I mean 'Weep not them tears,'" comforted Cal. "Anyhow, you and your daughter can get a ride."
"But my husband—my poor husband, sir."
Cal turned with a grin at a sudden noise behind them. The white-whiskered man had now turned his wrath on the unfortunate German.
"Out of my sight, you impudent Teuton," he was shouting. "Don't aggravate me, sir, or I'll have your blood. I'm a peaceable tourist, sir, but I have fought and bled in my time."
"Must hev bin bit by a mosquito and chased it," commented Cal to himself as the lady hastened to console her raging better half, and the little Dutchman skipped nimbly out of harm's way.
"What yo' bin a-doing to ther ole bell-wether, Dutchy?" inquired Cal.
"I ask him if he blease tell me vere I can get a picture of dot Bah, und he get madt right avay quvick," explained the Teuton.