"I ain't got but one pair ears," he said, "so you'll each wait till you're ast questions. Bein' president o' this yer Trust I'll do most of the yappin'," he added grimly. "I'm goin' away to-night fer a couple o' days. That's why this meetin's called. An' the object of it is to fix things right for Zip, an' to 'range so he gits a chance to put 'em through. Now, I seen enough of him--an' others," with a swift, withering glance in Sunny's direction, "to know he's right up again a proposition that ain't no one man affair. Combination is the only bluff to fix them kids of his right. We've most of us got ideas, but like as not they ain't all we guess 'em to be. In some cases ther' ain't a doubt of it. Without sayin' nothin' of anybody, I sure wouldn't trust Toby here to raise a crop of well-grown weeds--without help. An' Sandy, fer all he's a married man, don't seem to have prospered in his knowledge of kids. As for Sunny, well, the sight of him around a kid ain't wholesome. An' as fer me, guess I may know a deal about cookin' a jack-pot, but I'd hate to raise the bet about any other kind o' pot. Seein' things is that way with us we'll git to work systematic. Ther' ain't a gamble in life that ain't worked the better fer a system. So, before we get busy, I'll ast you, Sunny, to grab the grip under my bunk, an' you'll find in it, som'eres under the card decks, paper an' ink. You'll jest fix them right, an' take things down, so we don't make no sort o' mistake." He waited until Sunny had procured the necessary writing materials and set them out on the table. Then he went on in his strong, autocratic fashion. "Now," he said, fixing his eyes on Toby. "You'se fellers has had time to make inquiries, an' knowing you fer bright boys I don't guess you lost any time. The subject is the raisin' of kids. Mebbe Toby, you bein' the youngest member of this doggone Trust, an' a real smart lad, mebbe you'll open your face an' give us pointers." By the time he finished speaking every eye was turned on the triumphantly grinning Toby. "I sure will," he said, with a confidence surprising in a man who had been so bashful in his interview with Birdie. Just for a moment one of his great hands went up to his cheek, and he gently smoothed it, as though the recollection of the slap he had received in the process of gathering information was being used to inspire his memory. "Y'see," he began, "I got friends around Suffering Creek what knows all about kids. So--so I jest asted 'em, Mr. President." He cleared his throat and stared up at the roof. He was evidently struggling hard with memory. Bill lolled over and drew a closely written document from his pocket and began to peruse it. Sandy tapped the floor impatiently with one foot. He was annoyed that his evidence was not demanded first. Sunny sat with pen poised, waiting for the word to write. Toby's eyes grew troubled.