"If we only had something to eat now, we'd be all right," said Walter mournfully.
"You want something to eat?" questioned Chunky.
"I should say I do."
"Oh, well, that's easily fixed."
Stacy stepped over to a rock, made a motion as if ringing a telephone bell, then listened.
"Hello! hello! Is that the hotel, El Tovar Hotel? Very well; this is Brown. Brown! Yes. Well, we want you to send out dinner for six. Six! Can't you understand plain English? Yes, six. Oh, well, I think we'll have some porter house steak smothered in onions. Smothered! We'll have some corn cakes and honey, some—some—-um—-some baked potatoes, about four quarts of strawberries. And by the way, got any apple pie? Yes? Well, you might send down a half dozen pies and——-"
Chunky got no further. With a howl, Ned Rector, Tad Butler and Walter
Perkins made a concerted rush for him.
Ned fell upon the unfortunate fat boy first. Stacy went down in a heap with Ned jamming his head into the dirt that had been washed up by the river at flood time. A moment more and Ned was at the bottom of the heap with Stacy, the other two boys having piled on top.
"Here, here!" shouted the Professor.
"Let 'em scrap," grinned Dad. "They'll forget they're hungry."