“This gentleman at the tiller, Mr. Lester Lee, throws the harpoon. This other at the sheet, Mr. Frederic Rushton, throws the baseball. This idler at my right, Mr. William Garwood, throws the lasso. I admit, gentlemen, with deep regret, that of all this illustrious company I am the only one who doesn’t throw something.”
“Oh yes you do,” put in Bill quickly.
“What?”
“You throw the bull,” said Bill.
132CHAPTER XVII
A PLEASANT SURPRISE
The other boys roared, and for a moment Teddy was disconcerted. But he quickly recovered his balance.
“I suppose,” he retorted, frowning severely at the culprit, “that this low-brow means to intimate that I am a Spanish athlete. I should be deeply pained to know that any one who has been under the refining influence of Rally Hall should indulge in the practice of slang. What would our dear Doctor Rally say if he heard one of his pupils––”
But the question remained forever unanswered, for just then a piece of pork that Bill had picked up from the deck whizzed past the orator’s face, and, in the quick and undignified duck he made, Teddy lost the thread of his discourse.
“Suppose you two cut out the fooling and get down to business,” grinned Lester. “Fred and I are the only ones doing anything, and it’s time you loafers got busy. Bring out the grub and let’s have something to eat.”