Russ Bunker looked up at his brother Laddie and smiled. Still he made no move toward helping gather the driftwood for the bungalow they were going to make.
"Well, why don't you help get wood?" asked Laddie again. "Think we're going to do all the work and have you sit there?"
"Say, I'm a pirate, ain't I?" asked Russ, not getting his words just right, though his brother and sisters understood what he meant. "Didn't you say I was to be the pirate?"
"Yes, 'cause we don't want to be," retorted Rose.
"Well, all right then, I'm going to be the pirate," went on Russ.
"But you've got to get us good things to eat," said Vi. "We're the prisoners, an' you said they had good things to eat."
"I'll get good things to eat if Cousin Ruth'll give 'em to me," promised Russ. "But I'm the pirate, and pirates don't ever work. They just boss the prisoners. Now come on, prisoners, and build me the bungalow!" and Russ leaned back on a pile of sea weed and looked very lazy and comfortable.
"Don't pirates ever work?" asked Laddie.
"Nope! Not the kind I ever heard Mother read about in books," went on Russ. "They just tell the prisoners what to do, 'ceptin', of course, when there's any fighting. Pirates are 'most always fighting, but we won't play that part, 'cause Mother doesn't like that. I'll be a good pirate, and I'll let you prisoners build the bungalow."
"But you've got to get us something to eat," said Vi again.