“I’ve been working in dad’s real estate office off an’ on for a long time, you know; but I couldn’t get down to the clockwork thing. It was late in the morning—late gettin’ back at lunch time, an’—an’——”
“Early leaving at night, I s’pose?” suggested Dick.
“Rather. Well, at last dad simply wouldn’t stand for it any longer, an’—an’ I don’t blame him.”
“Neither do we,” grinned Sam.
“When I received a letter from Bob Somers telling me the crowd was going to spend a short time with the Texas Rangers I got an idea.”
“Fine! Let’s share it,” cried Dick.
“Dad could have found me a job in a big wholesale house. But after thinkin’ things over a bit I put it up to him like this: ‘Father’ I said, ‘the Ramblers are in Texas.’ An’—— Say, boys, maybe he didn’t laugh!”
“Why?” demanded Tom, suspiciously.
Cranny regarded the tall lad with a quizzical air. Then, like a flash, the thoughtful expression flitted from his face. He laughed in his old, boisterous fashion.
“Because he knew what I was going to say, Tom,” he chuckled. “Both he and I think you’re the greatest bunch ever.”