Jerry looked up at the sun.
“’Bout eleven, I guess,” he answered. “I got to get to work. The parade’ll be back in about half an hour, an’ we have dinner at half-past twelve.”
“Well, we’ll meet you here at about a quarter past two,” said Nelson as they slid off the trestle.
“What’ll we do now?” asked Tom.
“Guess I’ll go back to the telegraph office,” said Dan.
“We’ll all go,” said Nelson. “Then if the money’s there we can find some place to have some dinner. We don’t want to miss the show. Isn’t Jerry a corker?”
“He’s all right, Jerry is,” agreed Bob. “What was that word of his? Inspi——?”
“In-spi-rating,” answered Tom, laughing. “I wish Donello, or whatever his name is, was going to do his stunt. It sounds pretty fine.”
“Shucks!” said Nelson, “that isn’t very much. Why, look here, Dan, you’ve done twenty-five feet often up at camp. And as for turning somersaults——!”
“That’s all right,” responded Tom warmly, “but I’ll bet you couldn’t do it, nor Dan either. It’s one thing to dive into a lake where there’s twelve feet of water and another to dive into a little old tank.”