The southerner and his cousin were soon in the room, hot and perspiring from their rapid ride over.
"Good mornin', gentlemen," greeted the rancher's son cheerfully, throwing aside his hat, and pouring out a glass of water from a pitcher which stood on the table. "Have a drink, anybody? No? Then I'll drink it myself," and he drained the glass. Carl quickly brought another one for Tender Gray.
"Make room for Ike," ordered Herb, as the darky came laboring up the stairs, a huge box on his back. The boys met him at the landing, and helped him to deposit his heavy load on the floor.
"Dere's some more," announced Ike. "Greaser just brought one over for Mr. Fred Windham."
"What's that," exclaimed the latter in surprise. "Oh, I guess it's that stuff Mr. Stanton spoke about in the letter," he recollected.
"Yuh fellahs must be gwine to start a store foh sure," exclaimed Ike, as he dropped the second box with a thud.
"Look out--that one was full of ripe watermelon," responded Gray.
"Oh, golly," groaned the negro, "An' I 'most drapt it."
"Be very careful of the next one," warned Jerry, with mock seriousness. "It's loaded with spring chickens."
"Oh, das easy--I'll jes' open de box and let 'em fly up," answered the darky, dodging the hat which Gray pitched after him.
"Eeny, meeny, miny, mo--which one shall we open first?" queried Herb, when the three boxes had been set down in the room.
"Let me do it," volunteered Ike, with some curiosity, but a hasty chorus of protest stopped him.
"We want to do it ourselves," explained Fly. "It's more fun."
"You'er gwine to litter up this here room scan'lous," was the negro's comment, as he departed regretfully.
"I'll clean that up," hastily assured Carl.
"Say, Windy," interrupted Jerry, halting the proceedings. "Show the kids your letter."
"I clean forgot that," ejaculated the eastener, pulling a soiled envelope out of his pocket.
"I been readin' it," he explained guiltily, referring to its murky condition.
Work on the boxes was suspended for a few minutes, while Fred read the letter aloud.
"Things sure are comin' our way," said Herb, when the general shout of approval had died down. "Where's Hawke this morning?"
"I saw him right after breakfast, and he said he was coming over. He got the letter about being scout master, and--"