Dick refrained from mentioning the fact that on the occasion spoken of Eustace Smiley had supinely agreed to anything Hammerswell proposed.
Led by Duncan and his two companions, the boys marched down the winding road to a small, cleared grove on the shore of the lake, and there they found the cool and comfortable home of the Maplewood Canoe Club.
The clubhouse was built at the water’s edge, and dozens of canoes were to be seen. Some were floating in the water, several were drawn up on shore, while still others were found in a part of the clubhouse built for the purpose of storing them. Five or six club members were sitting on the veranda, smoking and chatting. Out on the mirror-like surface of the lake a few were paddling around in canoes.
It was a peaceful spot, and the boys eagerly sniffed the agreeable odor of the pines which grew in that vicinity.
“Well, dern my picter!” chuckled Obediah Tubbs. “I’d just like to come right down here and loaf through the rest of the warm weather!”
“Make yourselves at home, boys,” said Mr. Duncan. “Everything about the place is yours as long as you stay here. Use any of the canoes you wish to use.”
There were plenty of comfortable chairs, and the boys promptly accepted the invitation to make themselves at home.
“Hey!” cried Jolliby, as he discovered a set of boxing gloves hanging on the wall inside the clubhouse. “Here are the articles to have fuf-fuf-fun with. Come on, Tubbs. I’ll just gug-gug-gug-gug-go you one.”
“I am too tired,” said Obediah, who was comfortably fanning himself in the big chair he had appropriated. “I don’t want to hit you either.”
“Dud-dud-dud-don’t you?” sneered Chip, as he brought out the gloves. “You dud-dud-don’t want to hit me, hey? Don’t worry about that. Just juj-juj-juj-jump right up and hit me as much as you can.”