“Well, you can’t say that of me,” answered Roy with a laugh. “I’m warm enough, all right.”
“I’ll bet I could paddle faster than this,” said Chub.
“I’ll bet you couldn’t,” answered Dick indignantly. “She’s going a good six miles an hour.”
“If you don’t mind what you say,” supplemented Chub with an exasperating grin.
“It is too! I’ll bet you anything you like!”
“Six miles an hour?”
“Six miles, an hour!”
“Oh, say, Dick, be good! Don’t talk so fancy! You know well enough that if an able-bodied mud-scow came along it would make this boat look as if it were standing still.”
“You don’t dare to bet on it, though,” taunted Dick.
“But there’s no way to prove it,” said Chub, “unless we use Roy for a log and tow him astern.”