"How you was, Dutch?" inquired the Wonder, doubling up in his chair and drawing a bandanna handkerchief over his perspiring face with his foot.
"Ganz goot," laughed Carl, carelessly picking up one of the Roman candles. "I vill make you acguainted, oof you blease, mit mein leedle shink bard."
"Shake!" cried the Wonder heartily, offering his right foot. "It does me proud to meet up with a friend of Pretzel's."
"Allee same happy days," remarked Ping, releasing the foot and backing away.
"Yeou tew kids aire chums, huh?" put in the Zulu chief, leaning down to arrange the row of photographs in front of him.
"Surest t'ing vat you know," answered Carl.
"Dutchy boy heap fine," declared Ping. "We both one-piecee pards."
"That's the talk!" exclaimed the Armless Wonder. "Too much weather for the flyin' machine to-day, huh? Motor Matt was afeared to go up, I reckon, Dutch?"
"Afraidt?" protested Carl. "Modor Matt vasn't afraidt oof anyt'ing. He couldn't haf shtaid ofer der show grounds, und dot's der reason he dit'nt go oop. Der vind vould haf plowed him galley-vest, und den some."
"I see. These here aëroplanes are hard things to handle, and——Holy smoke! Drop it! Put it out!"