"Jones, if words were water, you'd have been drowned long ago. The way you flounder around in 'em makes me think of a tumble bug climbing upstairs backwards." Paul responded only with a solemn "Pooh! pooh!" as if he could not take time to notice seriously any such childish prattle. And while it must be admitted that there was nothing at all brilliant or elevating in the exchange of youthful repartee that had taken place, who shall say that both did not profit by it? They had made each his thrust and parry and, give or take, without a thought of losing temper. They had had a few seconds' practice in quick thinking, which is always desirable. The whole difference between a brain of snap and vim and one both slow and dull, is likely to lie in practice in rapid, accurate work, or the lack of such training, rather than in an original difference in capacity. Yet it must not be supposed that even Paul and Dave were constantly in an offensive and defensive attitude toward one another. That would never have done at all. Sooner or later such a manner would have become irritating. The tongue whose words are too frequently sharp, or by constant habit, other than kind and considerate, will make trouble inevitably. By themselves Jones and MacLester rarely indulged in such exchange as that of this morning. The fun of it was lacking when Phil and Billy were not by to serve as an audience. Alone together, the two were harmonious as could be. They were much more apt to differ at other times. An instance when they did not, however, occurred directly after the verbal contest lately recorded. "We will make a run to Queensville, get a light lunch there and have dinner in camp to-night," remarked Chef Billy, sealing the letter he had written. He brought his fist down with a whack upon the envelope, not for sake of emphasis but to make sure of the flap being fast. "Aw, Bill! I'm most starved _now_!" protested Paul. "Here, too!" MacLester urged. "Something in this air seems to make a fellow want to eat all the time." "Well, the point is, we've got to be starting. It's nearly noon," Worth answered. "Yes, that's so," Phil Way agreed. "Maybe we better have an egg sandwich or something like that, all around, and it will do for now." "Sure!" chirped Jones, emphatically. "Stuff will only spoil if we don't eat it up." "Risk anything spoiling around here," was Billy's earnest comment; but he ordered that frying-pan and eggs be brought him forthwith, while he proceeded to rake together the remnants of the fire. The route to Queensville was, for the first part, straight ahead upon the road bordering the Ship woods. Six miles distant, westerly, this road effected a junction with a thoroughfare running to north and south. Distant a mile or two, in the former direction, was the direct road to Queensville. This and the north and south road were both a part of the twenty-six-mile race circuit.