"No, sir! You forget that I have a weak heart. I might drop dead," objected the fat boy.
"Then we shouldn't have to pay the costs for you again. Professor, don't you think it would be bad for Stacy's weak heart if he were to fill up on this bacon?" asked Tad.
"Wha—what? Don't I get any supper?" cried the boy.
"You most certainly do not. If you are too weak in your heart to help cut up a little wood you are too weak to eat. That's flat. Go to bed," urged Tad.
"I—I'll work. I'll cut the wood, but if I die it will be your fault. I don't care much what becomes of me now. I want my supper."
"Professor, with your permission, we will give him a small slice of bacon," said Tad. "If it has no bad effect on him, we will give him another, a very thin slice, just before he turns in for the night."
The Professor gave permission gravely. The supper was cooked, and it did smell good to those hungry boys as they sat down to their scanty meal. Tad, with great care, chose the thinnest slice on the platter, which he handed to Chunky.
"Now bite off just a nibble at a time and chew it slowly," cautioned Tad.
"I won't. I'll swallow it whole."
Ned snatched the bacon from Stacy, whereat the fat boy sprang up and squared off for trouble.