“I guess, more than likely, it’s to rest from the hard work of pulling in that shell,” said his father, grimly.
Frank Simpson went on a short trip to his beloved California, and Phil and Sid put in two weeks at various Summer resorts.
Finally the time came to go to camp. Tom, who was in charge of most of the arrangements, sent out letters to his chums bidding them assemble at his home, as he was nearest to Randall College.
And, one fine morning, with their baggage gathered, and with their camping paraphernalia sent on ahead, they departed.
“Off for Crest Island, and the mystery!” exclaimed Tom.
“Not so loud!” cautioned Frank.
“Say, rather,” interpolated Sid, “off for Crest Island and—the girls!”
“Hark to the lady-killer!” mocked Phil. “Talk about your Beau Brummels!”
“Punch him for me, Tom,” besought the badgered one.