“A what?” said Wilfred, the lid of his left eye half-closing and quivering in that way of his.
“Cut it out,” said Charlie, “quitter is bad enough. Calling names isn’t getting us anything.”
“It might get you something,” said Wilfred.
“Will you cut it out!” said Charlie impatiently. “What’s the idea, anyway?”
“The idea is that I can’t swim in the contest,” Wilfred said, “and I came to tell you, that’s all.”
“Oh, that’s all, is it?” Connie sneered. “I guess you can’t swim at all, that’s my guess. Nobody ever saw you swimming.”
“Go on, he’s fooling!” said Charlie.
“No, he isn’t fooling either,” Connie shot back. “If it had been left for the tenth, he wouldn’t have told us yet. But now it’s only a few days off he has to tell us. Thanks very much for telling us in time, we’ll manage to put somebody in.”
“I’d like to know who?” Charlie asked.
“Oh, never mind who,” said Connie disgustedly; “somebody that isn’t a bluffer. We’re satisfied, go on and get out of the patrol——”