"Papa's little sunshine," chuckled Frank.
"Same old cheery disposition," grinned Bart. "Say, if he looked at milk, he'd turn it sour."
"I suppose we ought to go over and speak to him," said Frank, thoughtfully. "He must feel like a cat in a strange garret."
"Maybe you're right," said Bart, doubtfully. "I'm willing to try anything once."
They strolled over to the place where Nick Rabig was standing and saluted him pleasantly.
"Hello, Rabig!" cried Frank. "How do you like your first look at our camp?"
"If it was the last look I'd like it better," snarled Rabig, his sullen resentment flaring forth at this unexpected sight of his old enemy.
"You'll change your mind, maybe, when you've had a chance to look around some," said Bart, still trying to be agreeable, though the strain was telling on him.
"Yes," added Frank, "if there's anything we can do for you, let us know."
"The only thing you can do for me," said Rabig, his brows drawing together in a still blacker scowl, "is to get out of my sight and stay out."