“I dare you to double dare yourself to come to scout meeting sometime or other in the next year,” said Warner Lewis. “I dare you to knock a chip off my shoulder—that’s him, the way he talks.”
Craig Hobson was not so addicted to ridicule. “What’s the matter about seeing Chesty McCullen like we did?” he asked.
“Because you didn’t see him do it,” said Hervey.
“Sure, he did it,” said Craig in a way of friendly argument. “He was right there and ran away and five minutes after that the whistle blew; maybe ten minutes.”
“That shows what kind of a scout you are,” said Hervey.
“Listen who’s talking about scouting,” laughed Warner Lewis.
“If he turned in the alarm the whistle would blow in one minute,” Hervey shouted in Craig’s face. “You ask any of the firemen, because I know them all; I even know the fire-house dog, he followed me all the way to Hermit’s Mountain one day. I even slept in the fire-house. I bet you that alarm was sent in about, anyway five minutes after he was there—I bet you. I bet it was sent in while you were standing up at the corner watching where he went—I bet you.”
“Gee, some bets!” said Craig. “I bet that in a couple of days or so, or in a week maybe, they’ll arrest somebody for that robbery and I bet Chesty McCullen will admit it was the one that told him to send in the alarm.”
“I bet you he won’t,” Hervey shouted.
“I bet you he will,” Craig shouted.