46
CAPTAIN CHUB
let the groceryman do the figuring. We’ve got to have them, no matter what they cost. What time are we going around to see the Floating Artist?”
“Right after breakfast,” answered Chub. “You come up at about ten o’clock—”
“What’s the matter with you fellows coming to the hotel and having breakfast with me?” asked Dick.
“All right, then, luncheon. I’ll be around at ten in the morning. See if you can at least get him up by that time, Roy.”
“With a glance of scathing contempt,” murmured Chub, “our hero turned upon his heel and strode rapidly away into the fast-gathering darkness.”
But where he really strode was down the stairs, with one arm over Dick’s shoulder, while Roy brought up the rear and gently prodded them with the toe of his shoe.
