"They will soon get tired of it, mother," said Mr. Armstrong, "and it's dollars to pins that Mr. Simpkins will set the dog on them instead of handing over his motor boat, even though he doesn't use it himself."
"And only one thing more," cried Frank, in great glee that his parents threw no obstacle in the way of the Queen's Ferry Company. "The Codfish is coming down to make us a visit next week. Can't we have him down right away? We need his head in this big venture."
"Glad to have him come along. We would like to see this wonderful roommate of yours, wouldn't we, mother?" said Mr. Armstrong.
"Whoop!" shouted Frank, "then we'll telegraph. I'm off to meet the other officers of the company."
The result of the conference between the captain, the helmsman, and the skipper was that this telegram was dispatched to the Codfish:
"Big transportation company formed. You are elected manager. No work, big profits. Come on next train.
"(Signed) Frank, Lewis, Jimmy."
About the middle of the next forenoon the boys met at the Armstrong household and girt up their loins, or, in other words, nerved themselves for the negotiations with Mr. Simpkins.
"You do the talking, Frank," said Jimmy. "You have the gift of gab. I'll guard the way and Lewis can protect us from the dog."
"Protect nothing," said Lewis. "I'm too important a member of this company to fatten any bulldogs in this neighborhood."
"If any one is to be sacrificed on this expedition, it might as well be you," retorted Jimmy. "Skippers are always the first to be sacrificed."