"What are those idiots up to?" grumbled Hodge, who had no patience with
the antics of the Chickering set. "They've been making fools of
themselves ever since they came out here. Awhile ago, they were
recklessly burning powder and hurling shot all round. Now they act as if
they were crazy."
"Must be playing some sort of game of circus!" guessed Browning.
"They're tumbling about like acrobats--or fools!"
"And howling like wild Indians!" said Danny. "I think they are playing a
Wild West."
"They ought to have Bill Higgins here, then, to make the show complete,"
Merriwell remarked, with a smile. "But seriously, I don't believe
they're playing anything. Those yells sound real."
"Help!" howled Willis Paulding, forgetting his drawl, "We're being stung
to death!"
Willis was down on the ground, soiling his beautiful trousers and
digging furiously at his head.
"Hornets!" shrieked Ollie Lord, kicking about not far from Paulding.
"Wow!" screeched Lew Veazie, bobbing up and down like a cork in water
when a fish is nibbling at the bait.
"Take 'em off!" begged Julian Ives, neglecting his lovely bang and
scratching with great energy at the places where he had been stung.
"We're in a nest of hornets, or bees, or something!" exclaimed Rupert
Chickering, becoming decidedly belligerent in his efforts to rid himself
of the stinging creatures.
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