“Not as much as I did afore I met Dave,” answered Joe. “He kinder started me a-thinkin’. I ain’t got no eddication, an’ he says if I don’t never begin I won’t have no chanc’t to get up in the band wagon. An’, say”—the freckle-faced boy laughed—“I wish’t I could play music.”
“Why?” inquired Tom.
“’Cause them fellers has an easy job.”
“How so?”
“Oh, I’m wise to ’em. Often, when the leader weren’t a-lookin’, I’ve seen ’em quit playin’—honest, I have. An’ when he gits his eyes on ’em ag’in an’ waves that there club o’ hisn, they starts up like mad.”
“Deceitful rascals,” murmured Charlie, trying to stifle a suspicious gurgle.
Within a short time the boys found their opportunity to speak to Dave. They shook hands as heartily and their tongues wagged as rapidly as though weeks had separated them. Making the best of the few minutes which were at their disposal, enough was said to render the situation clear all around.
They learned that Dave expected to be with Spudger’s until the next day, and that he had written a letter to Captain Bunderley.
“I told him Vic and I would leave for Milwaukee just as soon as my work was over,” explained the stout boy.
“Hooray!” cried Tom. “Then there is nothing for us to do but enjoy ourselves.”