The club agreed with this opinion of Orkney more heartily than it endorsed Step’s performance, which was held to be juvenile, albeit not without provocation. Sam’s interference was accepted with respect rather than warm approval. As Poke put it, somebody, sooner or later, would have to thrash Orkney; and Step might as well have tried his hand. Whereat the Shark spoke up from his corner.
“Say, that’s nice doctrine to be preaching at the Safety First Club!”
For an instant Poke was abashed. “Why—why, there’s something in that. I guess I wasn’t thinking of our new name.”
“Well, Sam was,” said the Shark crisply.
“Huh!” grunted Poke. He glanced thoughtfully at Sam; seemed to be about to continue; changed his mind, and let the subject drop.
Sam went home that afternoon to find Lon in uncommonly bad humor. Somebody, it appeared, had opened a faucet in the barn, and left the water running in a merry stream. As a result, half the floor had been flooded, and annoying, if not heavy, damage had been caused. Lacking evidence to the contrary, Lon was disposed to hold Sam responsible.
“But I had nothing to do with it,” the boy explained. “I don’t know how it happened.”
“Foolin’ ’round here, wasn’t you, after school?”
“Yes—but I didn’t touch the faucet.”
“Guess you’re gettin’ absent-minded.”