"Pirates!" shouted Red to the boys behind them.
"That's the Nothing To It," Kingdon added, striking into a trot.
The five Walcott Hall youths came scampering down to the shore just as Yansey and his friends carried a line aboard the Spoondrift. The Blackport boys hailed the campers vociferously.
"Where's the rest of your band, Kingdon?" Yansey asked, after the greetings were over. "I see you've got two camps. We didn't know which one to anchor off of, but this was nearest."
"The other fellows—Pence and his crowd—like that location best," Rex returned easily. "We eat in two squads, anyway. By and by we'll all go over there. I want you to know Horace."
"Another of your Walcott Hall crowd?"
"Er—not yet," Kingdon admitted with a quiet smile.
The skipper of the Nothing To It agreed. "We haven't got to hurry. There's a moon to-night, and we'll sail home by light of her. We're allowed to stay out late since we've put on long pants."
Midkiff cooked a chowder. Cloudman fried fish and made biscuit. The Walcott Hall boys made great inroads on their choicest canned goods store, to balance the spread the Blackport Boat Club boys had previously given them.
Kingdon found time to sound Yansey regarding the discarded eight-oared shell at the boat-builder's.