“Advertising costs money. Besides, how would we do it? Or where?”
Oddly enough that question was in a manner quickly settled for them. Willard had scarcely finished when Spider Wells, much out of breath and very red of face, panted up to the platform where the partners were seated on a baggage truck.
“Gee, I was afraid I’d miss you fellows!” gasped Spider, mopping his heated brow as he swung himself to the truck beside Tom.
“It’s nice to be missed,” murmured Willard.
“I want to ride back with you,” continued Spider. “Jerry was telling me about the dandy ride he had this morning. He’s chopping kindling now for his mother. She’s going to give him a quarter if he chops all the afternoon and he’s going to have another ride.”
Spider put his hand in a trousers pocket, pulled it out again and opened it under Tom’s nose. “I brought my quarter with me, Tom.”
The boys laughed and Willard said: “Sorry, Spider, but I guess you had your walk for nothing. We’re not going back to town until after the 3:14 goes through.”
Spider’s face fell. “You’re not? Why?”
Tom explained. Spider’s mild blue eyes blinked. Then,