“Even if it does smell like cold storage eggs with the lid off,” laughed Ralph.
As he spoke he poured a liberal amount of syrup on his cakes. With hearty appetite he cut off a big slice of the top cake and eagerly took it into his mouth. For an instant a puzzled expression played over his features, and then he gave a yell.
“Wow! Oh!” he ejaculated, and bolted from the “table.”
“What’s up? What’s the trouble?” asked the others.
“Been bit by a snake?” asked Mountain Jim apprehensively. “Better get out your medicine chest, professor.”
Ralph was frantically gulping down several dipperfuls of water from the bucket Jimmie had brought from the creek. They watched him with some alarm, holding bits of pancake suspended on their forks.
“Oh-h-h-h!” sputtered Ralph, and then turned to Jimmie, who stood looking on with undisguised amazement.
“Say, you,” he gasped out, “did you put any of that fly dope on your hands this morning?”
“Y-y-y-yes,” stammered Jimmie, a guilty flush spreading over his face, “I did and——”