“Yes, but you’d think right away of dynamite,” laughed Dick.
“I suppose you would if you had no more poetry or romance in your soul than you have, you wild Westerner!”
“Isn’t there a bird that lives on ice?” asked Harry suddenly.
“Never heard of one,” Roy laughed. “He’d get cramps.”
“I mean that lives where there’s nothing but ice, Smarty,” said Harry indignantly.
“Then he’d have to eat it, wouldn’t he?”
“Quit your fooling,” said Chub. “Estrella De Vere is in earnest. You are quite right, Harry. The little bird you are thinking of is the ice-pick. It makes its nest in refrigerators and lives on lemon ice-cream and pineapple sherbet.”
“I think you’re all horrid,” said Harry. “There is a bird, Dick, isn’t there?”
“There’s the eider-duck,” answered Dick.