Val made up his mind that he would know more about his chum’s adventures some day, but just now there was too much work on hand for any further talking.
Bar’s mechanical genius had not been altogether neglected, although he did not know anything of “book” mathematics, and in half an hour more he was able to show Val how that van would be sure to make a good pull on the rope if the wind would only do its share of the work.
“Glad there’s none blowing now,” said Val.
“There will be, before long,” said Bar; “there was a halo round the moon last night. Now we must manage to get back to bed again without being seen. Nobody’ll suspect new boys like us, anyhow.”
“But won’t they be after poor Zeb Fuller!” exclaimed Val.
“I must get acquainted with that fellow,” replied Bar.
“He’ll take care of that,” said Val. “They’re going to play ball on the green to-morrow, and we can take a look at him then. Only we’re sure to get into some kind of a muss.”
“The sooner the better, then,” said Bar. “We can’t settle matters with a crowd like his a day too soon.”
“We’d better go home around by the river, anyhow,” said Val.
The process of getting out of the building was a good deal like that of getting in, for Bar would not listen to Val’s proposition to slide down the lightning-rod.