Lola’s story had deeply affected them all, but in the boys it had so stimulated their interest that they lay pondering the whole thing as she told it from beginning to end. Westy had a thought and he just couldn’t keep it until morning.
“Hey, Rip, watcha doing?” he said softly.
“Pickin’ flowers in the Sahara!”
“Say, now, I’m serious!”
“You always are. What in heck do you want now?”
“I’ve just been thinking——”
“You don’t do anything but think. I don’t see that it gets you anywhere. Look at those bandits, for instance——”
“Shush! Are you out of your mind?”
“Don’t shush me! Anyhow, do you think I’m a boob? If you did something else besides thinking you’d a-heard. Unk and Billy sound like a couple of steam shovels already. They can’t hear!”
“All right, but there’s no use of spilling the beans now and crying the blues, too. We can’t get credit for everything, can we?”