In the end all managed to get thoroughly dry. The sun was shining once more, and this helped to make things look cheerful again.
“I move we have a bite to eat before starting to work again at the camp!” Dan Fenwick was heard to say. To this suggestion unanimous assent was given, for like all boys they were made up mostly of appetite.
“A few slices of ham wouldn’t go bad!” exclaimed Phil Harkness, smacking his lips.
“And a few cans of those Boston baked beans strikes me as extra prime!” added Clint Babbett.
So it was ordered by Mr. Bartlett, and before long a delightful odor began to steal about that vicinity, causing some of the boys to groan dismally, and declare they were almost famishing for want of lunch.
“Why, it’s nearly two o’clock I want you to know,” asserted Andy Hale, reproachfully. “And I had my breakfast at six this morning, because I was afraid I might be late and find the rest of you gone.”
In time the call came to gather around a rough table those boys first on the island had put together.
“Any way will do this time,” Mr. Bartlett announced; “but by another meal we must have some system arranged. This camp is going to be systematically conducted, you understand, and not be Liberty Hall, where every boy can go as he pleases.”
“Yes,” remarked Dick. “Mr. Holwell is coming up to-morrow, too, and we want him to see that we can behave ourselves, and not act like a lot of savages.”
The hungry crowd devoured every scrap of food that had been prepared, and drained both coffeepots to the dregs. There was considerable merriment shown during the first meal on Bass Island, and everybody agreed that the prospects for an enjoyable stay looked promising.