So, having received permission from Miss Romaine, they set off the following Saturday for Buttercup Island, which was some distance down the lake. The boys had chosen this particular island because on it was plenty of the kind of wood they would need for building a campfire.
Buttercup Island was visited little by the girls from Laurel Hall, since it was neither as accessible nor as pretty as some nearer the school.
When they arrived the boys already had a splendid fire going. In it potatoes and eggs were rolled indiscriminately, and the cooks were getting ready a huge pile of frankfurters for roasting.
"Every one's got to cook his own," said Dodd Martyn, pointing to some long, sharp-pointed twigs prepared for the purpose.
"No work—no eat, that's the rule in this camp," added Fred Fielding.
The girls were glad enough to work, for there was a chill wind blowing from the water, a keen-edged wind that made any sort of work agreeable.
"We'll soon have to be going home," said Frank regretfully, as they gathered about the fire some time later, to eat blackened potatoes, blackened frankfurters, and eggs cooked far too hard for good taste or good digestion. "It's apt to snow in a few days, and snow sure takes the fun out of camping."
"I should think it would." Nan paused with a frankfurter half way to her lips and stared off through the trees. "There's a motor boat," she said as they all turned to follow her gaze.
"With two men in it," added Sadie.
"And it's making straight for this island!" cried Jo. She was on her feet in an instant, staring at the incoming motor boat.