All of them looked at Jack, who smiled.
“Suppose we put it to a vote, fellows,” he said. “All those in favor of scuttling out of this, like dogs with their tails between their legs, simply because certain parties want us to move, signify it by raising their hands.”
Not one went up; even Josh, who had seemed inclined that way, upon ascertaining that Nick declined to show the white feather, allowed his half raised hand to drop again.
“Contrary, no, raise their hands!”
And six of them went up like a shot.
“Do we vacate?” asked the fat boy, sarcastically, turning on Josh. “Nixey. And the more they try to scare us off, the closer we stick. Ain’t it so, fellows?”
“Millions for defense, not one cent for tribute!” spoke up George, grandly.
“Remember the old story of the battle between the wind and the sun, don’t you?” asked Herb, who was always bringing into play fables and yarns he had soaked in during his younger days.
“No; what was that, Herb?” asked Jack.
“Why, they got into a dispute as to which of them was the stronger, and decided to settle it on a traveler. So the wind began to blow harder and harder; but the traveler just wrapped his cloak the tighter about him. Then the sun started to try, and as it got hotter and hotter, first the traveler unfastened his cloak, and then threw it off altogether. So the bully old sun won out, after all.”