"Take a boat and go away and get wrecked on a desert island, like Robinson Crusoe," responded Johnnie glibly, at the same time hitching the hen up higher under his arm.
"And how about Chips?"
"Oh, I'm Man Friday," chirped Chips, his poor little face quite black enough for the character.
"I am so sorry we had to tell you so soon," said Johnnie. "We were keeping it a secret until we got to the lake; then we were going to send you a letter."
Mr. Ford looked gravely into his son's grimy face. It was an honest face, and Johnnie had always been a truthful boy, and just now seemed only troubled by the restless behavior of his hen; so the father rightly concluded that the blue and gold book had captivated him into the belief that what he and Chips were doing was admirable and heroic.
"What part is the hen going to play?" asked the gentleman. "Is she going to help stock your island?"
"Oh, no, but we couldn't get along without her, because she's going to lay eggs along the way."
"Lay eggs?"
"Yes, for our lunch. At first we weren't going to take anything but the hen, but Chips said he liked ham and eggs better'n anything, so we decided to take it."