"This," said Gertrude, pointing to a well-filled lunch-basket under the seat.
"Praised be Allah!" Brockway exclaimed, fervently. "You can trust Burton to look out for the small personal comforts. And he never so much as hinted at this when I was grumbling about the dinner awhile ago. I've a mind to punish him."
"How?"
"By confiscating the basket. We could run away by ourselves and have a quiet little picnic dinner while they wrestle with the mob."
But Gertrude demurred. "That would be too callously villanous," she objected. "Can't we divide with them?"
"And go away by ourselves with the spoils?"
"Yes, if you like."
"I do like. I know a place, and the way to get there. Are you good for a climb?"
Brockway possessed himself of the basket, spread a newspaper on the opposite seat, and began to make a very fair and equitable division of the eatables.
"I'm good for anything," she said; then she pulled off her gloves and helped him divide the luncheon.