Part 13 (1/2)

”Relations.h.i.+p!” Jack repeated, with a laugh. ”You almost hit it, Dray.

I guess the bear would like to be her first cousin, for he is trying to get her goods and chattels from her.”

”How?”

”Oh, we must not go into that; at least not just yet. I promised Cora not to be hasty with Moran. He's the 'gent' who is supposed to be president of the company.”

”The one who wears the Panama? I wonder if anyone would think of haste in connection with that duffer. It took him just one hour to buy three soft crabs from some kids at the dock yesterday,” said Walter. ”I wouldn't like to be his messmate. But I don't like his eye; it's made on the bias.”

”Yes, always looks as if it were going to slip out of the socket,”

confirmed Jack. ”Well, I hope the girls won't go in too deep with their schemes. Those fellows are from little old N'Yawk.”

”Quick!” whispered Walter. ”There's that Black. If he lays eyes on your plates he'll lick them.”

The last morsels of food were crammed into mouths before the call from the neighboring camper was answered.

”Come right in,” Ed said, finally, ”and help yourself. Have you had your grape fruit?”

”Oh, no,” sighed Tom Black, ”I didn't feel exactly right this morning.” (He brushed a brown hand across his brow.) ”Nerves, I guess.”

”Nerves? Grub!” shouted Jack. ”Didn't I see a can marked 'soup' in your back yard this a. m.?”

”Might have, but I didn't. Else I would have had soup.”

”There were grubbers around last night,” went on Jack, ”and we thought we found a thread that matches your sweater, sticking to a nail in our grub box.”

”My sweater is not ripped that I can see,” replied Tom, innocently, ”but if you are so kind I might take it. Don't think we put our sewing boxes in the kit, come to think of it.”

”It will be ripped presently,” announced Ed. ”We have reason to suspect the Cattle; in fact, we have engaged counsel.”

”The motor girls, I fancy, will defend you,” said Tom, nonchalantly, ”but I a.s.sure you, you will have no case. We are absolutely without grub; in fact, our case is pitiable.”

”And you had a 'Doins' last night,” Dray reminded him. ”Now, Tom, we want to be fair, but we have arranged to form a housewives' league for the purpose of swiping systematically. For instance,” (here he got a burnt match and tried to trace something on the oilcloth), ”if we have company, and no olives, we could go over to your cupboard, take a bottle and deposit in its stead, say, a can of beans.”

”Great!” shouted Tom, tossing up his cap, that landed on the flaming oil stove. ”You should not waste oil,” he said, as he rescued the cap.

”It's always wise to turn out the stove when you take off the pan.”

”The meeting is to be held in our living room,” Ed said, pointing outside to a bench made of a tree limb _au naturel_. ”When we have formed our committees and settled on our const.i.tution----”

This last word seemed to give every boy present a sort of agony, for each began to ”feel for his const.i.tution,” as if that important part of his physique had been lost in the camp woods.

”I wish you could settle my const.i.tution,” remarked Tom. ”Once I get that settled, I don't care what happens.”

”Now, quit your fooling,” returned Walter. ”I have an engagement and I would like to get my housework done. Tom, help yourself to a towel, and be careful not to wipe the plates on a gla.s.s towel. You can tell the difference by the border. The dish towel is all border, the center or hole went up on the oil stove, a little trick our stove has--it does not like towels. The proper towel for the gla.s.ses is that one with the black line drawn through the middle. The black line is not important, it was put there with a single wipe of the spark plug from the _La.s.sie_. Ed did it, very neatly.”

Tom took the towel tossed to him, and, as only a boy can, began to dry the dishes that Walter was piling in front of him. First he patted and rubbed the towel on one side of the dish that lay before him; then he turned the same dish over with a bang and repeated the patting and rubbing on the other side. After that he gave the plate a spin. If it landed right side up he left it so; if the trade-mark showed he counted it a ”foul,” and tried the trick again. How boys can get work done that way is always a mystery to girls, who find the same play labor.

”Do I stay for lunch?” Tom asked. ”I suppose when a fellow helps with the general housework he is ent.i.tled to his 'keep.'”