“Where are you going now?” asked Jimmy.
“School. I told Jasper—Jasper’s my guardian since dad died—that I wanted to go to Mexico and be an army scout or something, and he said an army scout ought to know a heap more than I did and he reckoned I’d better find me a school and go to it. I thought maybe there was a heap in what he said and decided I’d hike east here where learning comes from. So here I am, Ha—fellows. I don’t know what sort of a place this Mount Morris is, but I don’t have to stay if I don’t like it.”
“Mount Morris!” exclaimed Dud and Jimmy in one breath.
“Yes. Know it?”
They nodded.
“Aren’t going there yourselves, are you?” asked Crail.
Jimmy snorted with disgust. “I should say not! We’re Grafton fellows.”
“Are you? What’s Grafton, another school?”
“No, it’s not ‘another’ school,” replied Jimmy with great dignity. “It’s the school, the only school.”
“Think of that! Then this place I’m going to doesn’t stack up very high, eh?”