Jim laughed, plucked a blade of grass, stuck it in the corner of his mouth and said he guessed it was.
"What I'd like to know, though," he added puzzledly, "is how the dickens you did it."
"Ask this fellow," suggested Chub, nodding toward Roy.
The ambassadors looked inquiringly at Roy. Roy explained. The ambassadors opened their eyes, looked blankly incredulous and finally convinced.
"Well, I'll be blowed!" muttered Jim. "That's what Joyce meant when he asked about my cold!"
"What do you think of that?" exclaimed Schonberg. The other two shook their heads, plainly at a loss for words to adequately express just what they did think. Then there were a lot of questions, which Roy answered cheerfully, and finally Schonberg got up.
"Well, you did us to a turn," he said frankly. "As for you, Porter, you—" he hesitated; then—"you ought to come to Hammond!" he finished, evidently bestowing the highest praise he could think of.
"Thanks," answered Roy with a laugh, "but I was there last night and found it mighty cold."
"If we'd known it was you," said Jim, "we might have made it warmer for you."
"That's just what I thought, and so I took particular pains not to tell anyone."