“O’Brien?”
“No, Orion—it’s a bunch of stars. Oh, he’s a regular walking firmament.”
Tom stared at Westy. It seemed odd that the invisible being who had caught that message out of the darkness and turned the car back, should be right here, hobnobbing with other mortals.
“Come over here, Westy,” shouted Roy, “I want Tom Slade to see your freck—well, I’ll be—if this one hasn’t shifted way over to the other side. Westy’s our chart of the heavens. This is the fellow that helped send you the message last night, Westy. He ate two plates of plum-duff and he lives to tell the tale.”
“I understand Roy kidnapped you,” said Westy.
“It was fun all right,” said Tom.
“Too bad his parents put him out, wasn’t it?” said Westy.
“Did you ever taste any of his biscuits?” asked another fellow, who sauntered over. They formed a little group just below Tom.
“We’ve got two of them in the Troop Room we use for bullets,” he continued.
“What do you think of Camp Solitaire?” Westy asked.