“Right you are, Whisk—I mean, Mr. Whitney,” Bob answered in some confusion. “I suppose you’ll have to be Mister Whitney now since you are the Big Boss. Last summer you were the fellow who was so good to us kids and we took liberties.”,
“I see,” cried Bob joyously. “We’ll take ’em and surround the Greasers. Then shoot off the guns and scare ’em off! That it?”,
There was something else he wished to ask, but he scarcely liked to—perhaps it was silly. Well, he could ask Mother about it, though he wouldn’t ask any one else in the whole world..
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