“Willie, I have decided to give you a vacation,” said Mr. Beaumont. “You and Cranny are to spend a few weeks in Wyoming, with Bob Somers and his friends.”
“Oh!” said Willie.
“Aren’t you pleased?”
Willie pondered a moment.
“Oh, kinder,” he answered, “if they don’t get too fresh. Ha, ha! Cran worked it, after all, didn’t he? So we’re going to that old farmhouse, eh? Foxy lad! How’d you do it, Cran?”
Willie’s impish grin increased. Then, suddenly, he burst into a laugh which ended with one of his peculiar little gasps. His guardian certainly did not look pleased.
“Rather a surprise, this. Thanks,” added the boy. “Maybe they won’t be glad to have me along, Mr. Beaumont. Say, Cran, did you ever notice what funny names some animals have? Duck-billed platypus! What’s a platypus, anyway, Cran?”
He grinned cheerfully, as an ominous gleam shone in Cranny’s eyes.
Cranny didn’t sleep very much that night, and when he did doze away it was to imagine himself among the cowboys and out on the plains, whirling amid all sorts of strange and exciting adventures.
Next morning Willie went to the office with Mr. Beaumont, as usual, but Cranny lingered at the breakfast table until half-past eight. Then he hastily jumped to his feet, dashed out into the hall, clapped on his hat, and in another moment was striding over the graveled path toward the gate.