"Hullo, merry sunshine!" called Baker, waving his hand as soon as he was certain Bob had seen him. "Welcome to our thriving little hamlet."
"Hullo, Baker," said Bob; "what are you doing 'way off here?"
"Just drifting down the Grand Canal and listening to the gondoliers; and incidentally, waiting for you. Climb off your horse and come up here and get a tailor-made cigarette."
"I'm on my way over to Spruce Top," said Bob, "and I've got to keep moving."
"Haste not, hump not, hustle not," said Baker, with the air of one quoting a hand-illuminated motto. "It will only get you somewhere. Come, gentle stranger, I would converse with thee; and I've come a long way to do it."
"I live nearer home than this," grinned Bob.
"I wanted to see you in your office," grinned back Baker appreciatively, "and this is strictly business."
Bob dismounted, threw the reins over his horse's head, and ascended to the top of the boulder.
"Fire ahead," said he; "I keep union hours."