“Use the trees down yonder in the lake,” suggested Hippy. “The one who makes the first score will be free of camp duties for the next twenty-four hours.”
“I won’t play,” declared Chunky. “I know you want to work some sharp game on me.”
“And the one who makes no score at all must do the work for all those who do make scores,” added Elfreda laughingly.
The fat boy sat down stubbornly.
“Go on with your game,” he said.
“What’s the matter? Don’t you want to play, Honey?” asked Nora.
“No. I’m going to be the umpire,” answered Stacy.
“As you please,” laughed Hippy. “You will have to do the chores anyway. Folks, I am going to try to hit the third tree to the left of that group of rocks near the middle of the lake. Now watch me.”
Hippy started a rock, which he had selected with great care. It boomed over the ledge, observed in breathless silence by the spectators, then hurtled far out over the lake, finally smashing into the blue waters, throwing spray high in the air.
“A miss!” shouted the Overlanders.