Joey broke in hastily. “Say, Van, I got a lower, but I don’t mind sleeping up in Heaven—I’m used to it. You can have mine, over here, and I’ll take the upper.”
Dirk nodded. “Thanks. Very sporting of you, youngster.” He spread the mattress on the bunk that Joey had relinquished, and with an inexperienced hand spread sheets and fine woolen blankets in the semblance of a bed.
Next he began unpacking the trunk and suitcases, and Brick Ryan’s snorts grew louder and louder as the stack of the newcomer’s possessions grew higher. In a short time the tent was strewn with clothing and objects of all sorts. The leader’s empty bunk was piled high with suits of every kind and shade, among them a trim blue yachting outfit with white cap, and a khaki uniform with Sam Browne belt and white helmet such as African explorers wear. One suitcase was almost completely taken up with books and a portable typewriter. Between reading the books and dressing up in the dozen different suits, Brick reflected, the new boy would have very little time to do any camping.
But this was not all. It seemed as if Dirk must have gone into a big sporting-goods store and ordered at least one of everything in stock. He had complete outfits for baseball, basketball, and track. Joey was set to work stringing up an aerial for a portable radio receiving set that was carefully packed in a leather case. The interior of the tent was submerged beneath such objects as a big electric lantern, a fisherman’s creel, two swimming suits, a sketching outfit, golf clubs, hats and shoes of all sorts, and a black bag such as is carried by doctors on their rounds. Dirk opened the latter, and took from its well-filled interior a bottle of pills.
“That reminds me!” he said. “Forgot to take my prescription.” He swallowed two pills, made a face, and picking up an armload of shoes and a banjo case, approached Brick.
“Excuse me, old fellow,” he said agreeably, “but would you mind awfully if I parked these things under your bed? These tents don’t seem to have any closets in them, and that clothes-line from the tent-poles doesn’t look very strong.”
“Can’t do it,” Brick answered shortly.
“Why not? You don’t seem to have a great deal of junk yourself.”
Brick groaned. “Listen!” he said with some heat. “Lefty Reardon told you he’d show you where to put your stuff. He’s up at aide’s meeting now, and since Sax is still away, I don’t mind tellin’ you what the rules are. We got eight people in this tent. Suppose every single one of them had as much stuff as you’ve got?”
“But I can see they haven’t, so——”