“What do you mean, inveigle?” somebody hooted.
“Keep still,” I said; “inveigle is Latin for luring; you know what that is, don’t you? Your job is to get that lunch wagon over to this field by fair means or rainy means or any old means——”
“He doesn’t know what he means,” somebody yelled.
“And I’ll do the rest,” I told them. “Only you have to have the tracks clear by five o’clock this afternoon.”
“How are you going to get the car past that old garage?” somebody wanted to know.
“That’s another story,” I said. “You should worry about how we’re going to do that. We’ll find a way. Scouts are resourceful. There’s more than one way to kill a cat——”
“Scouts are supposed to be kind to animals,” one fellow shouted.
“I’m not talking about a real cat,” I said; “that’s just an expression. I’m talking about Mr. Slaus——”
Good night! Just then while I was talking I happened to look over to Slausen’s and there was Mr. Slausen standing in the back doorway watching us and listening. Gee whiz, I guess he heard everything I said. Anyway, I should worry, because I didn’t say anything that I was ashamed of. But just the same he had an awful funny look on his face.