“Oh, yes, I know him,” laughed Grant. “I have observed several times that the immaculateness of his manipulators has not been extremely noticeable.”
“That’s right,” laughed John. “There seems to be a superincrustation of unnecessary geological deposits that doubtless are due to his transcontinental pedestrianism.”
“Why, did he have to tramp across the continent to get here?” laughed George.
“I guess so. I know more about them than I wish I did, but I don’t know enough to know that.”
“I noticed,” said Fred, “yesterday afternoon when he came in that his lips looked like Alkali Pete’s.”
“What was the matter with Alkali Pete’s lips?” demanded George.
“They were seldom closed and there were great crevasses in them, cracked by the alkali.”
“I am taking your word for it,” said John, “but I confess I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m a good deal more interested in the fish we’re going to get.”
“‘We’re going to get.’ I like that. Does String really think he is going to catch any fish?” said George, turning to his companions as he spoke. “His attenuated form doesn’t look to me as if it would be able to stand the strain of landing the fish some of us are going to catch to-day. About the only thing I think String will ever catch will be a crab.”
“String, how old are you?” demanded Grant abruptly.