“I wish you’d let me go,” murmured Rob. “What a beautiful view it is, to be sure.”
“I’d go for wood,” said Jelly earnestly, “but I’m pretty tuckered, Malcolm. I suppose it’s being so fleshy that—”
“You’re not fleshy,” said Rob, “you’re fat, Jelly. Fleshy is much too polite a name for your trouble.”
“Never mind,” said Malcolm. “You sit down and get rested, Jelly. At least, you had the decency to offer to go, which is more than I can say for somebody.”
“I believe you are insinuating, Malcolm Warne! Your words and manner are alike insulting. I challenge you to mortal combat, up here above the clouds.” Rob picked up Jelly’s two precious eggs, “Behold the weapons! Eggs au naturel, at a distance of forty paces!”
“Here, you put those down, Rob!” shrieked Jelly in alarm.
“I shall be glad to put them down when they’re cooked, Mr. Jell.”
“Please don’t break them,” begged Jelly. “Malcolm, make him let my eggs alone.”
“That’s right, Rob. If you must play with those do it over the frying-pan so they won’t be wasted. Let’s go down and get the wood, Evan. How about it—rested enough?”