“No,” chuckled Chub, “little does he reck that the human bloodhounds are hot upon his trail.”
“What’s reck?” asked Roy.
“Don’t you study English?” scoffed Chub.
“Yes, but I never heard of reck. I don’t believe there is such a word.”
“That’s all right, my boy. When we get back I’ll show it to you in a book I was reading the other day. Look out!”
[They scuttled hurriedly to the side of the road and subsided in the bushes.] Dick had stopped and was standing in the middle of the road looking intently at what appeared to be a roll of paper which he had taken from his pocket.
“Must be a map,” said Roy. “Perhaps he’s lost his way.”
Chub laughed. “Whatever it is, I wish he’d put it away again and go on. There’s a peck of snow down the back of my neck.”
“Oh, little you reck,” said Roy cheerfully.
“You dry up,” growled Chub. “There he goes; come on.”