“Then,” said Mr. Linton, “as I presume I can count on Jim and Norah——”
“Not that they’re much use,” said Wally, despondently. A large boot hurtled from Jim’s window, took him in the rear, and he uttered a startled yell. Recovering his composure, he possessed himself of the missile and proceeded to swarm up the bare trunk of a tall palm, going up hand over hand, much like a monkey on a stick. Arrived at the crown of leaves, he clung with his legs while he tied the boot firmly in with the laces.
“Bring that down, Wally, you reptile,” sang out Jim. He made a dash for the garden, one foot encased in a sock, and, seizing a hoe, prodded vainly upwards in the climber’s direction.
“Not if I know it,” said Wally, happily. “Looks lovely up here—like some strange tropic blossom. Orchid Kangaroohides Jamesobium Wallistylis. Exquisite new species, flowering once a century. Look out, Jimmy, I’m going to slide.”
“Are you?” said Jim with vigour. His eye, roving round in search of a weapon, had caught sight of a fragment of barbed wire—the remains of a device of Hogg, the gardener, to keep greedy ’possums from devouring his rosebuds. It was but a moment’s work to seize it and coil it round the palm trunk in a long spiral. He stood back, grinning.
“Better not slide too suddenly, old man!” he said, pleasantly.
Wally had already begun to move, but he checked himself quickly. There were not many intonations in his chum’s voice that he did not understand. He leaned sideways and surveyed the trunk, his face lengthening involuntarily.
“Oh!” he said, and paused, apparently seeking for inspiration. “Beast!”
Jim sat down in a leisurely fashion on the grass and nursed his unshod foot.
“It’s a nice morning,” he remarked, conversationally. “Garden looks jolly well before the sun gets hot, doesn’t it? Tropic blossoms well out, and all that—including the climbing novelties! And there’s breakfast,” as the gong sounded. “What a pity to leave it all!” He gathered himself up, slowly. “So long!”