“Oh, get out, you wild Indian! I’m going home.”
He made another effort to tear himself away.
“Tommy, you’re a coyote: you’re skeered an’ afeared. You know I’d win.”
“Oh, no, I’m not,” said Tommy. “I’ll bet a dinner for the four of us at the Elm Tree that you can’t get your name on the front page while I’m on the paper— Hold on, though; I won’t bet that. I’ll bet you won’t get it there this year unless it’s merely the name, as a member of a society, or as having attended a meeting, or something like that, you know.”
“Thomas, you’re hedging,” said Pete, “but I’ll take your bet. And just my name isn’t to count; nothing less than a full paragraph to myself goes. You fellows are witnesses.”
“We are,” said Allan. “I smell that dinner already.”
“And you see Pete paying the bill,” said Tommy.
“I don’t know who pays, and I don’t care.”
“He cares not who pays for his dinner, so long as he may eat it,” said Hal. “Wise child, Allan. And, by the way, talking of eating reminds me. You know Billy Greb, Allan?”