“Sounds as if you were a cannibal,” commented Mouser, with a grin.
“Oh, Pee Wee hasn’t got to that yet,” mocked Fred, “but there’s no telling when he will if that appetite of his holds out.”
“I’d hate to be out on a raft with Pee Wee in the middle of the ocean, if we were short of grub,” chuckled Mouser. “Just think of the hungry looks he’d be throwing at me.”
“I’d like nothing better than to have Pee Wee along,” put in Bobby. “We could live off him for a month.”
The chaff flew back and forth for a while, and then the call of sleep began to make itself felt.
Bobby yawned and reached for his watch.
“I wonder what time—” he began, and then stopped short in chagrin.
“No use, Bobby,” said Mouser. “The chances are that you’ll never see that watch again.”
“Maybe it’s in some pawnshop by this time,” was the cold comfort that Fred had to offer.
“No loss without some gain,” chimed in Pee Wee. “I won’t have the trouble of unfastening my sleeve buttons anyway.”