And say, some of his
games kind of dazzle a fellow, if only there wasn't so much meanness
about 'em. When Perc gets to hating a fellow he doesn't stop half way,
but goes the whole hog. Why, more than a few times he's given us a big
scare, trying to do some stunt that would make us look small; and at the
risk of sending us all down a thousand or two feet. After all, I'm
beginning to believe I'd sleep sounder if Percy Carberry took to some
other play, and let aeroplanes alone."
"Well, he seems just as wild about them as ever, and so I reckon he'll
just keep on bothering us to the end of the chapter. But what are you
looking at, Andy?" and Frank also turned his eyes down toward the fringe
of quince trees that marked the old lane leading to the barnyard from
the road.
"I thought I saw some one coming over there, and if it turned out to be
our good friend, the profess, p'raps we'd be wise to skip out before he
sighted us, Frank."
"Here, let's step back out of sight, anyhow, so as to be ready to slip
away if it is our man," and Frank drew his companion around the corner
of the house, from which point they could still keep watch over the
lane.
Half a minute later Andy whispered:
"There, I saw him again, Frank, and as sure as anything it must be
Casper. He's a little man, wearing brown glasses to keep the bright sun
from his eyes, and yes, he's carrying a butterfly catcher's net over his
shoulder.
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