Part 10 (2/2)
”May meet some of the other fellows there,” he added. ”The train from the other way came in quarter of an hour ago, and I saw a lot of dress-suit cases in the baggage room.”
As the two youths entered the candy store a shout went up from three boys who were drinking soda.
”There are Dave Porter and Ben Ba.s.swood!”
”h.e.l.lo, Dave, old man; how are you?”
”My, look at Ben's new suit! It's almost loud enough to talk!”
”h.e.l.lo, fellows!” answered Dave, and striding forward he shook hands with the crowd, one after the other.
”Got any of those mountain lions with you?” queried Joseph Beggs, a round-faced, fat lad. ”Heard you brought down about a dozen while you were on the ranch.”
”Yes, Buster, I've got three in my trunk,” answered Dave, gayly. ”Want me to let 'em loose!”
”Heard you did up Link Merwell,” said Luke Watson, another lad, who was well liked because of his singing and playing abilities. ”I was glad to hear it.”
”So were all of us,” broke in the third boy, a tall, slim youth, Maurice Hamilton by name. ”But speaking of mountain lions puts me in mind of a story. Once three men----”
”The same old Shadow!” interrupted Dave, grabbing his hand and giving it a squeeze that made the story-teller of the school wince. ”Shadow, I believe you'd try to spin a yarn when you were proposing to your best girl.”
”That sure would be a yarn,” cried Ben, as he, too, shook hands.
”I haven't any best girl and you know it,” retorted Shadow. ”But I say,”
he continued, closing one eye tightly. ”How is Miss Jessie Wadsworth, Dave?”
”Very well,” was the answer, and Dave turned a bit red. ”Let us have something,” he added, hastily, to the clerk behind the soda fountain counter. ”What shall it be, Ben?”
”Make it a true love frappe,” sang out Buster Beggs, with a broad grin.
”But don't forget to put some ginger in it,” added Shadow Hamilton.
”My love, how can I leave thee!
One parting hug I give thee!
And now when Oak Hall calls me, I go, whate'er befalls me!”
sang Luke Watson, and put up his hands as if playing an imaginary guitar.
”Say, doesn't anybody want to hear that story about the mountain lions?”
queried Shadow, reproachfully. Story-telling was his hobby, and it had often been said by his friends that he would rather spin a yarn than eat.
”Some other time, Shadow,” answered Buster. ”We want to hear about Dave's trip West, and about what he did to Link Merwell.”
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