"Oh, you are, are you?" said Allen, sitting up. "I begin to think we
made a mistake in mentioning that Englishman. I think we must have
dreamed him, fellows."

"Oh, he was real enough," put in Frank. "But I shouldn't wonder if he
dreamt some of those adventures. They sounded too good to be true."

"Perhaps you've heard that old saying," Grace remarked, with her
usual languor, "that truth is stranger than fiction?"

"Oh, hurry," begged Betty. "The biscuits are almost done; I can smell
them."

"So can I," said Roy, with another longing sniff. "Don't let 'em
burn, will you, Betty?"

"I will, if somebody doesn't satisfy my curiosity, right away,"
threatened the Little Captain, her lips set threateningly. "Now, will
you be good?"

"Gee, Allen, did you hear that?" Roy's expression was pathetic.
"Hurry it up, will you?"

"Well," began Allen with aggravating deliberation, "he was a tall,
lean, rangy fellow with sandy hair and twinkling eyes. Seems he had
been wounded several times, and the last shot had cost him his right
arm."

"Oh," cried Mollie, her eyes like two saucers. "How did that happen?"