“Waddy Walsh!” exclaimed Bluff, showing sudden interest. “Let me look, Jerry!”
“Will you give an honest opinion, regardless of any bias, one way or the other?” demanded the other, whose father was a leading lawyer in Centerville.
“Of course I will. What do you take me for, anyway?” replied Bluff, aggrieved.
“Then look, and tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth,” and Jerry handed him the reading-glass.
“Well, what’s the verdict?” asked Frank, after Bluff had studied the picture for a full minute.
“I won’t be as positive as our friend here, but I’m inclined to think that it may be Waddy, all right; anyhow, he’s about his size, and there’s something in his way of standing that reminds me of the fellow,” announced Bluff.
“Talk to me about your hedging, what d’ye think of that? Of course it’s Waddy, as big as life, grown somewhat, and with torn clothes and dirty face; but I’d know his attitude among a dozen. Consider that point settled, Frank.”
“Well, it doesn’t matter much to us at all. If the sheriff, Mr. Dodd, manages to catch up with the runaways, Mr. Waddy will have a chance to go back to where he came from—the reform school. Now, let’s drop those two, and talk over our proposed visit to Wildcat Island,” remarked Frank.
“Have you got all the supplies?” asked Will.
“Here’s the list. Look it over, and if anybody wants to suggest other things all they have to do is to put them down. We’re willing to lug stuff there to the limit of our canoes,” answered Frank.