“That sounds like Pee Wee,” laughed Bobby. “But since you mention it, I begin to feel hungry too. How about you, Lee?”
“You bet,” exclaimed the boy from the South, but his voice lacked the tone of sincerity. Fred looked at him and grinned.
“What’s the matter, Lee?” he inquired. “You don’t mean to tell me you’re feeling seasick, do you?”
“Of course I’m not seasick.”
“No, of course he isn’t seasick,” said Bobby, with a wink at Fred. “He just doesn’t feel well, that’s all. People are often that way on salt water. It must be something about the air, I guess.”
“Yes, that’s probably it,” agreed Fred, in a tone of deep sympathy. “What you need, Lee, is a good bang up supper to set you up. How would a nice pork chop or two hit you?”
“I don’t know how they’d hit me, but I do know that something is going to hit you pretty quick, if you don’t stop talking about eats,” retorted Lee. “You two go on down and eat your heads off. I’m going to stay up here a while. I had a big lunch, anyway.”
“Well, you probably won’t have it much longer,” was Fred’s parting shot, as he and Bobby started on a run for the dining room.
There were a number of empty places around the tables, but Bobby and Fred enjoyed the meal hugely, with appetites no whit affected by the uneasy motion of the ship. When they had finished, they went on deck again, and found Lee coiled up in a steamer chair, and looking far from happy.
“Guess I’ll have to admit that I’m seasick,” he said, with a somewhat feeble grin, “but I’ve got lots of company, anyway. Most everybody I’ve seen so far seems to be as bad or worse than I am.”