“Three—in our shack. I just met them to-night. They seem all to the good.”
“Glad to hear it. I’ll fill in anywhere I can.”
“Well, I’m going to fill in bed—right now!” asserted Joe with a yawn. “I’m dead tired. It’s quite a trip from my place, and we’ve got to go to chapel in the morning.”
“That’s so. Are you a sound sleeper?”
“Not so very. Why?”
“I am, and I forgot to bring an alarm clock. I always need one to get me up.”
“I can fix you,” replied Joe. “I’ve got one that would do in place of a gong in a fire-house. I’ll set it going.” And from his trunk, after rummaging about a bit, he pulled a large-sized clock, noiseless as to ticking, but with a resonant bell that created such a clamor, when Joe set it to tinkling, that Ricky Hanover came bursting in.
“What’s the joke?” he demanded, half undressed. “Let me in on it.”
“The alarm clock,” explained Joe. “My new chum was afraid he’d be late to chapel. Ricky, let me make you acquainted with Mr. Poole.”