When the members of the Zero Club arose they found the day as clear as could be wished. The sun was just peeping over the distant hills and not a breath of air was blowing.
“Boom-a-rah! boom-a-rah! boom! boom! boom!” sounded out Boxy, imitating a big drum. “All up, for there is no time to lose if we want to reach the shores of Rock Island Lake before nightfall.”
“Right you are,” cried Jack. “Fold up the blankets and make your toilets just as quickly as you can. Pickles can see to the repacking of the sled, while I hunt around for breakfast.”
“Breakfast is all ready!” put in Barton Coils, poking his head up the ladder-way. “I was just going to rouse you out.”
In a jiffy one and another made their toilets, and climbed down into the kitchen. The smell of the buckwheat cakes filled the apartment, and a big platter of them were ready to be eaten, along with some maple syrup fresh from the grove back of the landing.
“Here’s where I am struck right in my soft spot!” cried Andy. “I’ll miss the buckwheat cakes, if nothing else!”
“Then you had better fill up well,” laughed Barton Coils. “Here you are, smoking hot! Who’ll have the next?”
Forks and knives were clattering right merrily for the next ten minutes. The buckwheat cakes were washed down with hot coffee and cream, and soon all were more than satisfied.
Then came a farewell shake of the hand with the boathouse keeper, and a final inspection of their traps.
“Now we’re off!” cried Jack. “Hurrah for the tour of the Zero Club!”