“I see plain enough that we’re due for some rattling lively times while we’re down in old Louisiana,“ remarked Smithy. “But if you don’t mind, Thad, please paddle your craft a little more to the left, because the breeze is blowing straight from you to us, and, well, you know what I mean.”
Bumpus was feeling so hilarious over seeing that great splash taken by his persecutor, Giraffe, that he did not pay the slightest attention to what Smithy said.
“You know, fellows,” the fat scout went on to remark, “up to now it’s been poor old Bumpus who’s generally gone overboard, or got in trouble like that; but seems as if times have changed, and now Giraffe, he wants to take his turn. If I’d been close enough, and had a boat-hook handy, sure I’d a got it fast in the collar of your jacket, Giraffe. And I’d a considered it a pleasure, too.”
“That’s right, I reckon you would, Bumpus; you’re an awful accommodating chum, ain’t you?” the tall scout sneered. “But see here, whatever am I to do now, Thad?”
“Sit in the sun, and let your duds dry on you!” suggested one comrade.
“The only trouble is, we have to bail out the boat, because he’s nearly flooded us right now,” Bob White asserted, beginning to get busy with a big sponge.
“Had I ought to make a change, Thad?” demanded Giraffe, ignoring these side thrusts, and appealing to the fountain head.
“Just suit yourself,” replied the scout-master.
“That’s what I mean to do, only this is my new suit, and I kinder hate to put it up to dry, for fear it’ll shrink on me, and I can’t get out of it again,” the lanky one went on to say.
Presently, as the air under the trees was not so warm as if they had had more sunshine, and Giraffe commenced to shiver, Thad told him he had better make the change.