Dick laughed as he helped his chum to some choice bits. Matters were moving more slowly, now that the first edge of hunger was dulled, and the boys were taking occasional stops to make remarks.
"What's the program for this afternoon?" asked Walter, as he drained his coffee cup. "Are we going fishing?"
"Whatever you say," replied Dick, who, like a true host, always consulted the wishes of his guests. "We can fish, take a walk, or go out in the motor boat."
"The motor boat for mine," said Bill. "I want to get on a pile of cushions and take a snooze."
"Well, wouldn't that give you the nightmare!" came from Bricktop. "You're getting lazier every day, Bill."
"Help yourself," spoke the sleepy youth, as he slumped from the table and stretched out under a tree.
"I guess a trip in the motor boat would suit us all best," observed Dick. "Hannibal 'Rastus, just fill up the gasolene tank, will you?"
"Oh, why wasn't I born rich instead of handsome," murmured Bricktop, who never would have taken a prize in a beauty show. "But my fatal gift of——"
"Cut it out!" cried Walter, throwing a pine cone with such good aim, that it went right into Bricktop's open mouth.
"Oh! Ah! Ug! Blug! Chug! Hum!" spluttered the discomfitted one. "Who threw that?" he demanded, when he could speak.