"If Nat Poole took the pie we'll fix him for it," said Dave. "Just you leave it to me." Then he got another portion of the dainty and handed it to the monitor, who disappeared immediately.
"What will you do?" questioned Roger.
"Since Nat has had some pie I think I'll treat him to some chicken salad," was the reply. "Nothing like being generous, you know."
"Why, Dave, you don't mean you are going to let Nat Poole have any of this nice salad!" cried Phil. "I'd see him in Guinea first!"
"He shall have some—after it has been properly doctored."
"Eh? Oh, I see," and the shipowner's son began to grin. "All right then. But doctor it good."
"I shall make no mistake about that," returned Dave.
While Shadow was telling a story of a little boy who had fallen down a well and wanted somebody to "put the staircase down" so he could climb up, Dave went to a small medicine closet which he had purchased during his previous term at Oak Hall. From this he got various bottles and powders and began to "doctor" a nice portion of the chicken salad.
"Say, Dave, that won't hurt anybody, will it?" asked Ben, who saw the movement.
"It may hurt Nat Poole, Ben."