“Yes, you’re right there, George; and while the rest of you are doing all you can to help Josh out, I’ll be collecting the duffle in the tent, and fixing the same so it won’t bother us much. If any chap manages to hook more of our stuff from under our very noses, he’ll deserve it, that’s all.”
So saying, Jack started to carry things in under the canvas, for the tent had been about fully erected at the time Josh made his astonishing statement; and only needed to be fastened down a little more securely at the base, so as to be ready to stand any sort of a blow, such as might come along in the spring time here on the upper Mississippi.
The air was getting a little “nippy,” as Buster called it; so that several of the motorboat boys had donned their sweaters. This made Buster start to again bemoaning the strange disappearance of his new one, that had the blue moon on the breast. He never could convince himself that he had mislaid it in the shed where the boats had been housed for the winter; and fancied that one of his chums must be hiding it from him; because every little while he would watch each one in turn, and with hope struggling afresh upon his rosy, plump face, only to have it die out again when he realized they were not dragging the familiar object out of their clothes bags.
Secretly Buster was determined that at the first chance he would rummage through each one of those bags himself, and make positive that his missing property was not reposing where it never should be found.
The supper preparations went on apace, and soon the most delightful odors ever sniffed by hungry cruisers began to permeate the surrounding atmosphere. Buster went into the tent, calling back over his shoulder:
“Just going to lie down a while on my blanket, to see how she goes, fellers. Fact is, I’m that cramped after a session aboard the speed boat that I c’n hardly stretch out. And then, to own up to the real truth, them smells make me just wild, and I can’t stand it around the fire any longer. Just call me when everything’s ready, Josh, that’s a good feller. Oh! my! but that coffee is scrumptious; and the ham, goodness gracious! whoever smoked that pig knew how to fix things so’s to set a hungry boy half crazy. Yum! yum! Don’t forget to wake me, now, Josh!”
But of course it was not long before supper was declared ready, and the boys proceeded to gather around the spot where Josh had set things. Buster was not called, in fact there was no need, for he burst out of the tent like a young cyclone just at this time, and hastened to find a place to deposit his fat form in the circle.
“Hey! thought’d you steal a march on me, didn’t you, fellers?” he demanded, trying to look very fierce, which was impossible, for he only screwed up his face and seemed comical at such times; “meant to just eat up my share, and then tell me you forgot all about giving me the high sign. But I was on to your little game, let me tell you. Could hear every word you said, and when Josh here told George to pass out his pannikin, that gave me my cue. Thank you, Josh, I believe I will dip in next; and Herb, fill my tin-cup with that coffee, please. Oh! ain’t I glad we’ve got started at last. That last ten minutes was just awful to me!”
So Buster rattled on until the others begged him to stop it.