"That's right, grin your silly head off," retorted Jimmy, in no pleasant humor; "but talking of burying, that gibe needs a first class funeral, with mourners blubbering."
"Don't know so much about that," objected Cat, with his grinniest grin. "If I don't tell this on you when I get back, my name's not Cat Miller."
"I dare you," threatened Jimmy fiercely.
"Dare some more!"
"I double-dare you," shot back Jimmy, and, after these words, the speaker proceeded to cup his hands and whisper in Cat's ear.
Whatever it was, it had a magical effect.
"I resign," said Cat meekly, and added coaxingly, "Say, for Pete's sake, don't let that get out or I'm ruined. I'll can the whale's egg, swear I will."
The matter being thus adjusted, much to Turner's amusement, the lads shed their garments, dashed into the ocean for a dip, and were dressed and heavily engaged at breakfast fifteen minutes later.
"Needn't hurry so," admonished Turner. "I ain't goin' for an hour after grubbin', anyway."
