“Well, let ’em come,” Bob said carelessly. “If you’ve hid our boat, they won’t make much by snoopin’ round here; an’ we’ve only got to keep still so’s folks can’t hear us. Now, what are you goin’ to do with the things?”
“The stuff to eat, do you mean?”
“Yes; where you goin’ to put it?”
“Right over where Josiah’s settin’. We can spread all the papers down, an’ they’ll be jest as good as a table-cloth. Now come on, fellers, let’s see what you’ve brought;” and Billy proceeded to further illuminate the cabin by placing a lighted candle in the neck of each of the remaining bottles.
In a very few moments the delicacies were spread on the locker, ready for the feasters to begin operations.
There was no reason to complain of lack of quantity or variety.
Jimmy Skip had brought two pounds of bologna, cut in substantial slices; Bill Foss, in addition to the candles, contributed a large number of crullers and a quart of peanuts; Tim Murray added to the collection three dozen pickled sheep’s tongues; and, by consulting with his friends, each fellow had been able to secure some dainty different from the others, therefore the assortment was as great as there were members of the party.
“It looks as if you fellers was feelin’ pretty hungry,” Josiah said, as he surveyed the ample supply of food.
“We didn’t have any dinner to-day, you see, ’cause we was kinder waitin’ for this thing; an’ I reckon that stuff’ll look sick by the time we get through with it,” Bill said, as he began to arrange the eatables in what he intended should be a most appetizing manner.
He had hardly commenced his work when a noise was heard from the deck, as if several persons had leaped suddenly down from the pier; and the would-be feasters looked at each other in surprise, not unmixed with alarm.