"And nobody to tell you that you've had enough and mustn't pass up your plate for more," added Bob. "Oh, cricky, we won't do a thing to those dinners!"
"You make me hungry just talking about them," put in Frank. "By the way, fellows, where are those sandwiches that our folks put up in case we got hungry before dinner time?"
"Here they are," replied Bob, producing a paper box from the rack where he had placed it. "We might as well get rid of it now, so that we'll have a better appetite when the time comes for the big eats."
"Well, you deal them out, Bob, since you've got them there," directed George. "You'll find some little papers of salt and pepper to season them with and there's a can of mustard down in the corner of the box."
"All right," responded Bob. "Leave it to me. I'll have them ready in a jiffy."
He busied himself at getting the sandwiches ready while the rest looked out of the window. If they had been less interested in the scenery they might have thought that Bob was bestowing an unusual amount of care on such a simple bit of work.
"Here you are, fellows," he sang out finally.
They turned toward him eagerly and he handed out a chicken sandwich to each.
Sammy grabbed his like a dog snatching at a bone and took a big bite out of it.
The next instant he was choking and sputtering while his eyes bulged from his head.