The old man whirled and galloped for the house, growling to himself, jabbing his wooden pin viciously into the ground with every step, and leaving a watery trail as he went. Chub keeled over on the ground, kicked his feet in the air, and roared.
"It's a cinch," he guffawed, "that that's the last flyin' machine Perk'll try to invent. We thought we was havin' this experiment entirely private, an' I guess Perk thought I'd given you fellers the tip, so you could be hangin' around. That didn't help his temper any."
"We got here just before Welcome jumped off," said Matt. "I couldn't figure out what he was trying to do, at first, or I'd have rushed out and tried to stop him."
"You couldn't have stopped him!" snickered Chub. "The old boy had the bit in his teeth."
"Ducking was all right," grinned Clip. "May have been a good thing. Cooled his spirit, anyhow."
"Punk! His pesky spirit will break out somewhere else, you see. Perk is a human volcano, an' he's got to have an eruption just about so often or he can't be happy. But why are you fellers showin' up here so early in the morning?"
"Clip and I are going to Denver on our motor-cycles," answered Matt. "We just came around to say good-by."
Chub's face fell.
"On the level?" he asked. "Hang it all, Matt it can't be you're goin' to-day?"