“It’s a stirring ride, isn’t it?” said Brent, in his funny way. “Don’t you feel all stirred up?”
“You’re not in with me, then?” Tom asked.
“I? I should hope not! Do you think I want to get my picture into the Pathé News, digging treasure? Do you suppose I want all the boy scouts up that way laughing at me?”
“You coming?” he asked Brent.
“If I thought I’d get into the Pathé News I’d certainly go,” Brent said. “I’ve seen so many airplanes and dirigibles in the Pathé News that it would be a pleasure to dig into the solid earth. What they need in the Pathé News is more underground stuff. I rather think I’ll go.”
“Well,” I said, “all I can say is that I’m sorry I ever told you anything about it—either one of you. Brent, I would say that you at least have too much sense of humor to go hunting for hidden treasure.”
“That’s just what you need, a sense of humor,” said Brent.
“Well, I don’t know but what you’re right,” I added half-disgustedly.
“We’ll go up there,” said Tom, intent upon his breakneck driving, “and we’ll camp right in old Buck’s cabin; I can get permission from the Interstate Park bunch, all right. We won’t have to say what we’re there for. We’ll have the whole summer to hunt.”
“How about Temple Camp?” I asked him.