We plunged ahead as far as the corner of Beasley's fence, where Peckstopped us again, and we drew together, slapping our hands and stampingour feet. Peck was delighted--a thoroughly happy man; his sour giggle ofexultation had become continuous, and the same jovial break was audiblein Grist's voice as he exclaimed to the "Journal" reporter and me:

"Go ahead, childs. Git your story. We'll wait here fer you."