“Besides,” went on Bob, “we want to hear about the sixty nuggets of gold. There’s more interest in listening to a yarn about real gold than in seeing Noddy get fooled over something that isn’t gold; eh, Jerry?”
“Oh, well, if you’re both against me, of course I’ll have to give in,” sighed Ned; “but I sure would like to see the look on Noddy’s and Bill’s faces when they hear that they’ve been stung. They don’t realize it yet, for they were some distance off when the old gentleman explained about it being his watch that caused the lode of gold.”
“That’s right,” put in Mr. Brill. “Curious how I got fooled myself that same way. But at least I knew it was gold, and I was so surprised at finding it in that place that I never stopped to look at the character of it.”
“Me either,” chimed in Jim Nestor. “But if you boys want to hear the story I guess Harvey is ready to tell it, and then, if you’re agreeable, we’ll start after the sixty nuggets of gold.”
“Hurray!” yelled Bob. “That’s great! Off for the border and the golden West!”
“Hush!” exclaimed Jerry, placing his hand on his chum’s arm.
“What’s the matter?” asked the stout lad, looking around.
“Well, there’s no use informing the whole town about what we may do,” went on Jerry, in a low voice. “Besides----” He paused suddenly, and continued--“well, let’s go in and talk it over.”
“Say, there was some other reason why you stopped me,” spoke Bob, as he and the tall lad dropped back of the others. “What was it, Jerry?”
“Well, I didn’t want to mention it before the others, but, just as you spoke, I saw Sim Fletcher walking around the corner, and I’m almost sure he heard what we were talking about.”
“Sim Fletcher--that chap who’s been hanging around with Bill Berry lately?”
“Well, I’m glad you stopped me, then, for I shouldn’t want Sim to know any of our business any more than I would Bill Berry, or Noddy Nixon. But I guess it’s all right so far; isn’t it? I didn’t let out much.”
“Oh, no. I don’t believe any harm was done,” said Jerry, but, at the same time he looked closely in the direction where Sim Fletcher had been last seen.
“Well, boys,” began Jim Nestor, when they were all once more seated in the parlor of Jerry’s home, “I guess we can spin the yarn now without being interrupted by that fellow who talks like a phonograph going at full speed. Are you all ready?”