“That must be Fat,” said Blackie. “We saw him down at the end of the lake before we hiked up. He was in the wagon then.”
“Maybe that’s the fat fellow we dumped off the wagon coming along the road back of camp,” volunteered Slater. “We told him that walking was the best way to reduce his figger, and dumped him out.”
“To our fat friend’s rescue, then, tent-mates!” cried Wally, drinking down the last of a glass of milk. “As soon as the Chief makes his announcements, we shall be in the saddle and off for the hunt!”
A whistle sounded, and quiet fell on the groups. The Chief was about to speak. He rose, an imposing figure of a man, quiet, dignified, and with a voice full of calm command. He was dressed in camper’s togs, and wore the green “L” on his sweater.
“All I have to say is this, fellows. We are all up here for a good time—the best time ever. Now, I want to mention a few things that will help the new camper to get along and make himself at home. Don’t expose yourselves to the sun too much until you get a coat of tan gradually; you won’t blister then. Don’t cut up or mark the trees on the campus of which we are so proud. Don’t have any firearms in your tents; none of any kind are permitted here at camp, and if you have any, bring them up to the lodge and I will look after them for you. And finally, I only need mention the rule we have about boys who smoke. Now, those are all the ‘don’t’s’ I’m going to mention. In an hour there will be a grand jubilee campfire below the baseball diamond, where I will introduce you to the councilors, who will then have something to say to you. All set for the best camp season ever! Everybody happy?”
“Yay!” The resounding, united call of the campers reverberated among the lodge rafters.
“Let the lions roar!”
“Rao-a-ow!” A pack of well-fed lions never sent up such a tremendous roaring to the Sahara moon.
“Dismissed!”
Tent Four remained a little island in the swirling rush of campers that broke up after the meal.