“Did you notice how I rolled my r’s?” asked Gordon.
“We certainly did—you’re the only original!”
“That’s nothing. I can do it even better than that.”
Harry, smiling, walked over to Vinton, who was carrying several staves and a fishing-rod wound up in a piece of light tenting. Fumbling in this bundle, he pulled out a battered, rusty sword.
“Here you are, old man,” he said, handing it to Gordon. “You want to do it right, you know.”
“Where’d he get that?” asked Langford, surprised.
“Don’t ask me,” said Dan Swift.
“Oh, cracky, where’d you get it, Harry?” Gordon cried.
“Oh, cracky, I just happened to see it in Port Henry when we were making the glider,” laughed Harry.
Gordon grew sober.