"I hear you people have locked horns with Henry Plant," said Baker.
"Well, Plant's a little on the peck," amended Welton.
"Leaves for yours," repeated the self-constituted robin redbreast. "Babes in the Woods!"
Beyond this he would vouchsafe nothing until after supper when, cigars lighted, the three of them sprawled before the fireplace in quarters.
"Now," he began, "you fellows are up against it good and plenty. You can't wish your lumber out, and that's the only feasible method unless you get a permit. Why in blazes did you make this break, anyway?"
"What break?" asked Welton.
Baker looked at him and smiled slowly.
"You don't think I own a telephone line without knowing what little birdies light on the wires, do you?"
"Does that damn operator leak?" inquired Welton placidly but with a narrowing of the eyes.
"Not on your saccharine existence. If he did, he'd be out among the scenery in two jumps. But I'm different. That's my business."