when low in his spirits.

"I don't want any of your old boilers and stokers and whirligigs.
I'm tired of reading, and want something regularly jolly," answered
Jack, who had been chasing white buffaloes with "The Hunters of
the West," till he was a trifle tired and fractious.

"Play cribbage, euchre, anything you like;" and Frank obligingly
disinterred himself from under the folios, feeling that it _was_
hard for a fellow to lie flat a whole week.

"No fun; just two of us. Wish school was over, so the boys would
come in; doctor said I might see them now."

"They'll be along by and by, and I'll hail them. Till then, what
shall we do? I'm your man for anything, only put a name to it."

"Just wish I had a telegraph or a telephone, so I could talk to Jill.
Wouldn't it be fun to pipe across and get an answer!"

"I'll make either you say;" and Frank looked as if trifles of that sort
were to be had for the asking.

"Could you, really?"

"We'll start the telegraph first, then you can send things over if you
like," said Frank, prudently proposing the surest experiment.

"Go ahead, then. I'd like that, and so would Jill, for I know she
wants to hear from me."