He had scarcely vanished before a high wagon such as is used to carry cooper’s barrels turned slowly into the street. A slow old horse pulled it along. Its driver nimbly leaped from his seat. The moment he called out “Whoa!” to the horse and turned his face toward the chums, Pep Smith uttered a great shout.
“Why, fellows, see,” he cried, in mingled glee and surprise—“it’s Ben Jolly!”
CHAPTER V—THE BIRD HOUSE
Ben Jolly it was, more sprightly, more jolly-looking than ever, for he waved his hand with a genial smile to the children staring down the side street after the whistler. The other reached into the wagon. Instantly upon recognizing their old-time friend and helper the three chums started in his direction.
“Hi, there!” hailed Pep, while Randy waved his hand gaily and all hurried their gait.
“Well! well!” exclaimed Jolly, his face an expanding smile of welcome, extending both hands and greeting his friends in turn. “I expected to find you here and headed for here, but I did not expect to run across you so oddly.”
“For mercy’s sake, Mr. Jolly,” burst forth Randy, staring in amazement at the wagon, “what in the world have you got there?”
“Why bird houses,” replied Jolly.
“Bird houses?” repeated Pep, equally bewildered. “What are you doing with such a lot of bird houses?”
“Selling them, of course.”