“Well, it’s just like this——” Victor grinned in his most irritating fashion. “If the boys shouldn’t happen to turn up you’ll know they’ve gone to Milwaukee with me—see? Now, to flop would mean that——”
“I hadn’t the nerve to take a flyer alone, I suppose?” supplemented Tom. For an instant he scowled almost savagely. Then, catching a wink from Dave Brandon, the expression of his face suddenly softened. He gave a quiet laugh. “Can’t string me, lad; oh no!”
An approving nod from the historian rewarded this remark.
“Hope it doesn’t rain,” observed Bob, carelessly.
The boys glanced through the window-panes at an even gray expanse of cloud against which the opposite buildings cut sharply.
“Looks mighty threatening,” admitted Dave. “Isn’t any worse than yesterday, though.”
“Come ahead, fellows. We’ll start out, anyway,” cried Bob. “So-long, Tom. Good luck!”
“Say, you Indians, he’s the easiest chap to jolly I ever came across.”
Victor opened the conversation in this agreeable style the moment the four had stepped into the street.
“You’d better leave Tom alone,” cautioned Bob.