“Treason! treason!” shouted Dave Shepard.
“What’s the matter with you?” demanded Wyn, who had hopped ashore behind the chaperone.
“Professor Skillings is going back on us, boys,” declared Dave.
“Why, Professor!” cried Ferdinand. “Where would you find in all the five zones such a set of boys as we-uns?”
“Five zones? Correct, my boy,” declared the professor, seriously. “But name those five zones; will you, please?”
“Sure!” wheezed Tubby, before Ferd could reply. “Temperate, Intemperate, Canal, Torrid, and Ozone.”
“Goodness gracious, Agnes!” gasped Dave. “Can you beat Tubby when he lays himself out to be real erudite?” while the others–even the professor and Mrs. Havel–could not forbear to chuckle.
But Dave and Ferd got busy at once while the others laughed, and chaffed, and looked over the boys’ camping arrangements. Dave was cook and Ferd made and fed the fire. These boys had all the approved Scout tricks for making fire and preparing food–they could have qualified as first-class scouts.
Ferd started for an armful of wood he had cut down at the bottom of the steep bank and suddenly, without any warning whatsoever, he slipped, his feet pointed heavenward, and he skated down the bank upon the small of his back.
“My goodness me!” exclaimed Frank Cameron. “Did you see that?”