"You're the great little scribes, you are," declared Bob. "We haven't had a line from you since just before we left Sterling."
"When was that?" promptly asked Jack.
"Oh, early in February. You fellows wrote that you were expecting most any day to go across."
"Well, we went; right after that," grinned Jack. "We've written you gazabos three letters since then, and never got even a post card in return. We've abused you to each other for fair. Slackers; that's our pet name for you."
"Yes, that's it," immediately chimed in Jerry, always his twin brother's faithful repeater.
"We never got 'em." Bob shook a disgusted head. "We didn't get half of our mail at Camp Marvin. I suppose it's chasing us around yet. We'll get it some day if we live long enough."
"We wrote you fellows a couple of letters, too," informed Jimmy, frowning.
"Then we've got something coming to us, too," was Jack's cheerful retort. "Now let's flop and have a chewing-bee. Come on over to our table. We've a fine surprise for you. We want you to meet——"
"Cousin Emile," supplied Bob. "I spotted him right away. We have a couple of fellows with us. They belong to the gang. One of 'em is Iggy. You remember? We told you about him. The other is a new pal of ours. We're the five Brothers now. Oh, maybe we haven't a bag of beans to spill!"
"Get your two Buddies and bring 'em over to that table," directed Jack, pointing to an alcove table, larger than the others. "I'll steer Emile to it, by the time you round up your strays."