So there we were with the first hard part of our big enterprise over, and the hardest part staring us in the face.
“We’re past the first trench line, anyway,” Westy said.
“Yes, but I’d like to know how we’re going to get past that old repair shop,” Connie put in. “That’s what I’d like to know.”
We were all sitting in the car resting before going home.
“You leave that to me,” I said. “Where there’s a will there’s a way. I’ve got an idea.”
“Have you got it with you?” Dorry Benton wanted to know.
“I’m not going to bother with that old grouch, Mr. Slausen,” I said. “He’s worse than a rainy Sunday, that man is.”
“I’m glad I’m not his son,” one of the fellows said.
“Believe me,” I told them, “when it comes to picking out fathers I picked out a good one.”
“Well, what’s the idea?” one of them wanted to know.