"Well, then, that day we went out—— Oh Joey! shall we ever forget the sight of 'Fevvers' rollin'——?"
"Look here, Hawkins, if you can't spit out that idea of yours quick an' lively, you'd better swallow it! If you think to waste my valuable time——"
"Your time wasted! Pish! Listen, then. I vote we go out to the caves an' have a look round for the place where Ben Bolt kep' his horses. It'd be no end of a lark for us to find, after the police an' others have given it up. What say?"
"There's not much in your notions, Hawkins, generally speaking; still, you've struck ile this time, sonny. Gewhillikins! it's all right. Let's have a talk with ole Sandy about it."
"Oh, he's sure to be nuts on it! He's always talkin' about the mystery."
"Up, guards, an' at 'em! as Cromwell sang out at the battle of Marathon," quoth Joe, in slight historical confusion, as he tumbled out of bed.
They dressed quickly and then rushed out to find Sandy, who had risen earlier to yard the horses. Sandy was nothing loth. Indeed, he was as eager as the others, if not more so. He had often brooded over the puzzle, and discussed it at times with his mates, but oftener with himself. Like the others, he had theories.
"I've got to take the harrow to the cultivation paddock after breakfast, an' then I'll be free."
"Can't you take it now?" suggested Tom. "Good hour yet to breakfast. You'll have whips of time, an' we'll help you."
Sandy was agreeable, and the boys soon hoisted the harrow on to the cart. They returned in good time for breakfast, and got Mr. M'Intyre's consent.