“He intends to send you a letter by one of the cow-punchers. Good-bye!”
“Odd—odd—odd!” reflected Dave. “Now, is there another grand old rumpus coming—or what? Guess the Major hasn’t learned to wear a ‘don’t-touch’ look, like the Ogdens. Quite a surprise, this.”
Dave picked up his book, reseated himself, and, with his feet comfortably disposed on a stool, began to read.
A pleasant breeze came in through a window close by; sometimes the lowing of a distant longhorn was borne to his ears; but otherwise the silence seemed oppressive. Conditions were ideal for lulling the stout lad into a blissful slumber.
Dave promptly capitulated, and the book dropped from his hand.
When he once more sat up, it was only because two boys, talking in a lively fashion, had entered the room.
“Caught you at it again,” laughed Bob.
“Well, I certainly had an uncommonly fine nap,” admitted Dave, with a yawn. “Have a nice trip, fellows?”
“Didn’t we!” cried Cranny. “It was certainly a corker. The ‘Ogden II’ sailed just like a bird. Hey! Something to tell us, Dave? What is it?”
Dave explained.