Tad cast a reproachful glance at him. “You have caused me to lose the thread of my discourse. I think I’ll climb the Rock now.” He pulled himself to his feet with a sigh and looked contemplatively at the crag which towered above him.
“Don’t be a chump,” advised Rodney. “You’re too full of food to climb anything. Besides, we’d hate to have to carry you all the way home. It’s a longish way, Tad.”
“Please don’t try it,” begged Matty. “We’d so much rather you didn’t, Tad.”
“My ability as a mountain climber has been assailed,” responded Tad firmly. “Old Leather Lungs over there thinks he’s the only one who can pull off a little stunt like this. Now you fellows just watch your Uncle Theodore!”
Tad took a pull at his belt, groaning over the operation, and stepped jauntily toward the place where an ill-defined track crept away over the face of the Rock. Kitty watched him blinkingly.
“Think you can do it?” he asked.
“One more insult from you, Kitty, and I’ll hurl you into yon bottomless depths! If I couldn’t climb to the top of this twopenny old Rock, I’d resign my presidency of the Alpine Club. You fellows are evidently not aware that I am the original monkey when it comes to climbing!”
“We didn’t know just what kind you were,” murmured Rodney, “but we knew you were.”
“Please don’t try it, Tad,” said Matty. “We’ll be just worried to death, won’t we, May?”