Westy said, “Sure, if you can eat these you can do anything.”
“Are some of those things hard?” Warde asked me. “I mean those tests,” he said.
“They’re not so hard as these flapjacks,” Hunt Manners told him.
“Oh, is that so?” I said. “I notice hard things don’t trouble you much.”
He said, “The pleasure is mine; flop me another one, will you?”
“They call these things stove-lids up at Temple Camp,” Will Dawson told Warde.
I said, “Yes, and you’re a pretty good stove-lifter, all right.”
“I bet you have a lot of fun, you fellows,” Warde said, kind of laughing.
“Sure,” I told him, “we have so much fun that even the weeping willows die crying from laughing so hard. If you had this patrol to look after your hair would soon turn white. My teeth are white already from worrying. We remind ourselves of balloons instead of foxes. We should worry. You’re in for it now and you can’t help yourself. The worst is yet to come. Don’t you care, smile and look pleasant. You might have done worse, you might have got into the Raven Patrol.”