"A fresh flapjack to the boy who bakes it," announced Belle, gaily.
"Say, speaking of flapjacks puts me in mind of a story," came from Shadow, who was wading around in water up to his ankles. "Once there were two old miners who were in a camp in the mountains. They got to disputing as to who could make the best flapjacks. Says one of them——"
Shadow did not finish the story he had started to tell. Unbeknown to him, Roger had come up behind, and was now on his hands and knees in the water. Luke gave the would-be story-teller a quick shove; and over went Shadow backwards, to land in the shallow water with a resounding splash.
"Flapjack number one!" cried Luke, gaily. "Say, Shadow, what are you making so much noise about?"
"I'll noise you!" roared the former story-teller of Oak Hall, as he scrambled to his feet.
Then he started to rush after Luke, but Roger caught him by his ankle, and down he went into the water with another splash, this time sending the spray flying clear to those sitting on the fallen tree.
"Here! Here! You boys stop that!" cried Mrs. Wadsworth. "We haven't any umbrellas."
"Oh, excuse me, I didn't mean to shower you," pleaded Shadow. "Anyway, it was Roger's fault."
"If you are going to race, start in!" ordered Dunston Porter.
"Well, what's the prize?" queried Roger, doing his best to keep out of Shadow's reach.