"Wait a minute, c-c-can't you? What's your h-h-hurry. R-r-rome wasn't built
in a d-day, I g-g-guess."

"Well, go ahead and have it out, because I can see you've got something on
your mind. Now, what's eating you, Toby?" the other complained.

"I only w-wanted to ask Max if it wouldn't be g-g-ood
p-p-p-p"--whistle--"policy for us to mark the place where we leave the
boats. There! do you get that, Bandy-legs?"

Toby asked this question triumphantly. Strange to say, that whenever he
stumbled most in his speech, so that he was compelled to halt, and give
that short whistle, Toby was able to finish what he was saying without a
single hitch.

Steve often declared it reminded him of a country railroad crossing. There
you beheld the warning sign: "Stop! Look! Listen!" and upon complying
immediately heard the whistle, after which everything moved on smoothly.

"Toby, that's a sensible suggestion of yours," Max hastened to declare. "If
so be you hide the boats away so well that we couldn't ever find the same
again we'd sure be in a nice pickle, eh, Owen?"

"I should remark," the one addressed replied; "that tramp to Carson would
be anything but a peach. And with all our camp stuff to tote along, too."

"Excuse me!" Bandy-legs exclaimed. "Make sure we'll mark the place, boys.
Now, get a move on, Toby. Where will we find the rest of you when we get
through our job?"