"Mighty funny, for a fact. I've done odd jobs over at Rickham fur a long spell, now, an' I was powerful sure he'd give me the job of lookin' after his horses this summer. Ask Sanders if I wasn't."
"Sure you were," said the thin boy.
"He always called me 'Bill'—old Barton did. He says ter me, 'Bill, I'll see about it.' Say, why didn't Sam Bins go with him?"
"I don't know," said Bob.
"An' there's another thing. Seein' as how he wouldn't be here this summer, I wanted ter use the 'Spray.' I spoke to him 'bout that, too."
"Would he agree to that?"
"He didn't say nothin'," admitted Dugan, reluctantly, "but I'm powerful sure he intended to. Didn't tell me no. Anyway, I suppose it'll be all right, eh?" and "Little Bill" looked eagerly at Captain Bob.
"I'll write my uncle and find out. I'd like to oblige you, Dugan, but I'm responsible for things just now. Of course, if he says the word——"
"Guess anybody kin tell what that means," interrupted Dugan, fiercely. "Talk about the meanest luck yet—lose a job an' all the sport I was a-goin' ter have this summer—the whole business busted ter bits! Can you beat it? Mebbe you don't believe what I says, eh?"
Bill raised his voice—his eyes began to snap.