Secret Service Duty. "Great Smoking Fireboxes!" exclaimed Jimmie. "No, Jimmie, you should say 'Hot Boxes,'" corrected Jack. "I meant to say 'Great Frozen Hot Boxes,'" smiled Jimmie. "Here, here!" Harry cried impatiently, holding up a warning hand. "Just imagine what Ned would say if he heard that!" "All right, when I see him I shall ask his permission to use that as an intense explosive when the occasion requires." "You mean 'expletive,' Jimmie," Jack again suggested. "You win the argument!" Jimmie announced resignedly, sinking further into the depths of a great chair. "I wish Ned would hurry!" The three boys were seated in the club rooms of the Black Bear Patrol and were the only members present. Nearly the entire fourth floor of the handsome residence of Jack[Pg 20] Bosworths's father had been given over to the use of the Black Bear Patrol. All the members had lent their best efforts to fitting the rooms up in a manner becoming the use to which they were being put. About the walls hung trophies of their prowess as hunters and fishermen. Rugs of skins were on the floors, chairs and settees fashioned by the boys themselves offered comfort, while pennants and ribbons indicating prizes awarded in athletic contests were plentifully in evidence. [Pg 20] By great good fortune the boys had succeeded in escaping from the attention of the gang of rowdies they had unwittingly disturbed earlier in the day. Having just time to leave the damaged motorcycles with their friend Pierre they caught the next train for New York, and had proceeded at once to the club rooms, where they now rather impatiently awaited the coming of Ned Nestor. "Maybe Ned didn't think we could get here so quickly," Harry suggested, moving a camp stool nearer the window and seating himself. "Maybe he didn't think we nearly failed to get here at all!" "If it hadn't been for the good qualities of that little 'buzz-wagon' of mine we would be[Pg 21] arguing with that gang of toughs out on Long Island this minute!" declared
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