“And that’s that,” Tom added. “Mighty nice chap, huh? Boy, that must be interesting work!”
“I’m disappointed,” said Brent; “these prosaic calls are getting monotonous. We heard footsteps in the night and they turned out to be a Boy Scout⸺”
“Oh, there’s nothing prosy about Spiff,” laughed Tom.
“And now comes this tree dentist or whatever you call him, with his cement and his explosions⸺”
“Erosion,” said Tom. “It’s mighty interesting work. There’s a lot of that kind of work going on that we don’t know anything about.”
“Not a single escaped convict so far!” said Brent. “The only bait-box I’ve seen is full of salt. Conservation experts aren’t getting us anywhere. Escaping Scouts are not snappy enough. I was led to expect an old tottering hunter of the Covered Wagon type, and all I get is a dentist. I suppose the next person to come stealing in on us will be a life insurance agent. How about going fishing this afternoon?”
“Let me tell you one thing,” said Tom; “these fellows are a mighty interesting lot, these government fellows; surveyors and rangers, irrigation fellows and all that—and⸺”
“Dentists,” said Brent.
“Well, I hope you’ll give him the glad hand,” said Tom.
“He can fill all the cavities and do all the crown and bridge work and painless extractions he wants around here,” said Brent, “as long as he doesn’t bother me.”