“We might have it here,” said Jonesie, “only it would make a beast of a noise and The Terror would be sure to hear it.”
“There’ll be no rat-killings in this study,” said Sparrow decisively. “You fellows can jolly well go somewhere else.”
Sparrow Bowles was Jonesie’s roommate and naturally had some rights.
“It wouldn’t do, anyway,” responded Jonesie, addressing Pinky, who was perched in dangerous proximity to the ink-well on the study table. “If we let the rats out here Sparrow’d eat ’em himself.”
“Is that so?” demanded Sparrow angrily. “Anyway, I’ll bet I’d catch more of them than that mongrel pup of yours!”
“Mongrel nothing!” exclaimed Pinky indignantly, up in arms at once. “You haven’t seen Ace.”
“Besides,” said Jonesie sweetly, “the mere fact—if it is a fact, Sparrow,—that you’re better bred than the other dog doesn’t mean that you can catch more rats. Now, does it?”
“Oh, chase yourself!” growled Sparrow inelegantly.
“Anyway, we’d better have it somewhere else,” said Jonesie, winking at Pinky as he returned to the original subject. “I tell you what! Let’s have it at Steve’s!”
“Sure thing!” agreed Pinky. “Steve’ll be tickled to death. And Mrs. Sharp doesn’t mind how much rough-house her fellows make. Let’s go and tell him about it.”
“Where you going to get your rats?” asked Sparrow, who was deeply interested in the project in spite of his attitude.
“Catch ’em,” answered Jonesie. “Perkins has four traps set under his stable now. And we tied Ace up so he wouldn’t butt in. Oh, we’ll have rats enough in a day or two! Don’t you say anything about it, Sparrow. If you do you won’t be there! Also, we’ll knock your block off!”
“Like to see you do it,” growled Sparrow. “Or a dozen fellows like you! Domineering kid!” he added as the door closed behind the others. He picked up the paper-covered novel he had been reading, replaced his feet on the radiator and scowled darkly. “Good mind to put faculty on,” he muttered resentfully. A grin overspread his thin face. “My word,” he chuckled, “that would be a lark!”