“Well, you went out,” the foreman drawled. “The boy was the only one near you so I reckon—”
He was not allowed to finish for at that Red McGee let out a tremendous roar of laughter.
“Ho! Ho! Ha-ha-ha!” he roared. “That’s one on Red McGee.
“But, boys!” he struggled to his feet. “I want to admit right here. There might be something to that Stormy Petrel crew after all. Give ’em a chance, I say.”
“Sure! Sure!” the crowd boomed. “Give ’em a chance.”
“Where’s that young roughneck?” Red demanded, staring about him. “I want to shake his hand.”
“Here—here he is!” Blackie pushed Johnny forward.
“I—I’m sorry—” Johnny began.
“Young man,” Red McGee broke in, “never apologize. Your enemies don’t deserve it, and your friends don’t demand it. From now on we’re pals. Shake on it.” Their hands met in the clasp of a grizzly and a bear cub.
“What’s more,” Red went on, “the treat’s on me. You’re coming up to dinner with me, all four of you fellows from the Stormy Petrel. Ever eat ptarmigan pot pie?”