“Race you to shore,” Jimmy yelled, flailing the water in a fast crawl. Alf was slightly ahead of him, but Jimmy soon passed him and was the first to throw himself on the beach, crowing breathlessly, “Beat you!”
“By a mere inch,” Alf said, flopping down beside him. “Where’s Brook?”
Jimmy shrugged. “Probably back in the hut helping Pat prepare a feast for our lunch. That guy’s always hungry.”
“So am I,” Alf said. “It’s your Michigan air. But I don’t think Brook is with Pat. I saw him drag one of the canoes into the water just before our race. I was too busy trying to keep up with you to see what he did after that.”
“What difference does it make?” Jimmy demanded. “Let’s go exploring by canoe ourselves. We can dry off in the sun just in time for lunch.” He pointed. “I want to investigate that fork of the first stream over there.”
“I want to eat,” Alf said. “I’m starving. But if you must satisfy your curiosity before I satisfy my hunger, I suppose you must.”
“I can’t let you eat now anyway,” Jimmy said with a grin. “If I did there wouldn’t be anything left for Brook when he shows up.”
“I’ll say there wouldn’t,” Alf agreed, tightening the belt on his trunks. “I could catch a fish right now with my bare hands and eat it while it’s still alive.”
“You just had breakfast,” Jimmy said. “Come on!”
Alf lazily shaded his eyes with his hand and squinted up at the sky. “About four hours ago by the sun,” he said stubbornly.