“Dot’s vot der madder vos,” agreed Hans. “Dot gompany has dwo ‘Topsys,’ dwo ‘Marks,’ dwo ‘Gumption Cutes’——”

“An’ two jackasses,” grinned the Yankee youth. “One of them leads the other every day in the street parade.”

“Hey?” exclaimed the Dutch youth. “You don’d mean——Say, you vill lick me a minute in uf I say dot again!”

He squared off in a fighting attitude, seeming ready to go at Ephraim.

“There, there!” laughed Frank. “Up to your old tricks, I see. Why, I believe you two fought a duel once at Fardale.”

“We did, b’jee!” nodded Ephraim.

“Mit eggs,” spoke Hans.

“Ripe aigs, at that.”

“Dose eggs couldt smell me vor a veek.”

“It was awful.”

“Yaw; id peen a put ub shob us onto.”

“An’ Frank Merriwell was the feller whut put it up.”

“Yaw. I peliefed I vos all ofer plood mit.”

“So did I.”

“But I nefer knewed pefore dot plood vos so pad to smell uf anybody like dot.”

“We never got even with him fer that sell, Hans.”

“Nefer.”

“Well, we’ll eat enough to-day to square the account. He’ll think he’s run up ag’inst a cyclone.”

“Yaw, we vill done dot, Efy. You haf a greadt headt on me, ain’d id!”

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