“If you try that,” Alex declared, “I’ll set the dog on you.”
“Aw, give the money to me!” Jule cut in. “I’ll borrow it and contribute it as my share of the expense. Anytime a boy wants to give away money, I’ll accommodate him!”
“We’ll give a note for it,” suggested Case, and so the boys counted out the gold pieces—there were forty of the denomination of $20—and gave a joint note for $800. Jule laughed as he put his name to the paper in letters an inch long.
“I’ll make ’em good and big,” he explained, “because the name is all there is to it, the names, I mean. We are all infants in the eyes of the law, you know.”
“Where did you learn that term?” asked Alex. “You must have been studying law.”
“Dr. Holcomb says I’m an infant in the eyes of the law, anyway!” the boy replied. “Now, if you’ve got this money matter settled, suppose we go ashore and feed up. I’m hungry for something that hasn’t been lugged about in tin cans for a month.”
“Rich we are!” shouted Alex, “and we’ll have a feed on shore that will put an inch of fat on our ribs! Hurry up, fellows!”
“Someone must remain on the boat,” suggested Frank, and I’ll be the guard. I can go ashore after you all get back.”
“You furnish the money and stay out of the feast!” cried Jule. “Not if I know it. I’ll remain on the boat, and you can bring me a modest meal in a bushel basket. You’ll need Frank as interpreter, anyway.”
It was finally arranged that Jule should remain on board, and the others soon set off in the little boat. They reached the town in a few moments, wandered about the illy-kept streets for a time, and then hunted up a place where motor boat supplies were sold. The order for gasoline and provisions was given, Clay promising to pay when the goods were delivered on board the Rambler.