“Gee, you fellows have nerve!” complained the newcomer.
“There’s one bottle,” said Tom, who had charge of the improvised refrigerator, and forthwith he hauled up the basket, at the sight of which Teeter laughed joyously, and proceeded to get outside of his share of the refreshments.
“What’s doing?” he demanded, after his thirst was quenched, and when they were all seated at the table.
“We’re going to have a snow battle,” explained Peaches. “We were just talking about it when you gave us heart disease by pounding on the oak.”
“Heart disease; my eye!” exclaimed Teeter. “You should have a clear conscience such as I have, and nothing would worry you. That’s good ale all right, Joe. Got any more?” and he finished his glass.
“Nary a drop. But go on, Peaches. Tell us more about the snow fight.”
Whereupon the lad did, waxing enthusiastic, and causing his chums to get into the same state of mind.
“It will be no end of fun!” declared Teeter. “We’ll choose sides and see which one can capture the fort.”
“When can we do it?” asked Tom.