“No,” dissented Dave.
“Why not?”
“I want to think things over a bit, before I decide on what I shall do,” was the reply. “I have no patience with the fellow called Vernon.”
“Take my word for it, he’s a bad one,” declared Grimshaw.
“The other one—young Brackett—I feel sorry for.”
“Of course you do,” observed Grimshaw, rather sarcastically; “that’s your usual way. Who’s going to pay for the damage here? Say, you take my advice—teach those two smart Alecks a lesson by having them arrested, and send the bill to Mr. Brackett, telling him all the circumstances.”
“I’d a good deal rather help young Brackett than harm him,” said Dave, considerately. “He doesn’t strike me as a bad fellow at heart. It’s the influence of Vernon that is leading him into trouble.”
“How’s the machine?”
“Not in very bad shape. I think there are enough tools and materials aboard to mend her up till we get home.”
All three of them looked the Gossamer over critically. Expert that he was, old Grimshaw soon had the machine free of the trellis and the injured parts repaired. Dave went over to the gardener, who was figuring on the side of a fence post with a piece of chalk.