“Why don’t you try swimming back to America?” laughed Bob. “That might do the trick.”
“I’ve been thinkin’ about that, too, only I’m afraid I couldn’t take along enough to eat.”
“Oh!” Bob groaned hopelessly, and then, as he found that Chubby had just arrived in Cartagena, suggested that they take a walk about the city.
But as it was almost noon, Chubby suggested that they get a “bite” to eat. Just enough, he said, to prevent them from falling from hunger.
Mr. Wallace snorted.
“I suppose it’s impossible to do it,” the naturalist said earnestly, “but I’d like to take you along on our expedition into the Andes. If you’ll go, I’ll guarantee that you’ll get rid of twenty pounds.”
“Huh? Are you tryin’ to kid me?” Chubby looked up suddenly.
“Not a bit of it,” Mr. Wallace answered, trying hard to suppress a smile. “It works every time. You see, we have to get by on limited rations and——”
“Fine! I’ll go—— What was that you said? Limited rations? That means less food, doesn’t it?”
Mr. Wallace nodded.