"It doesn't work, Westy," I said.
I could hardly speak, my throat felt so queer, sort of.
CHAPTER XXVII
"POTS"
"Did you take the cap off?" Westy called up. Thoughtful little Westy!
"G—o—o—d night," I said; "I never took the cap off the lens cylinder."
"Maybe that was the reason," Pee-wee said, in that innocent way of his.
"It's just possible," I said.