“I think I’ll do so right away,” said Piper. “I’ll get out my tackle and try the fish without delay.”
“You’ve gug-got another guess coming,” said Springer. “There’s dishes to wash and other work to do around this camp, and we’re not going to let you sus-sneak off to fish while the rest of us do the work. You can’t pup-play that game on us.”
Baffled, Piper, who abhorred work, reluctantly abandoned his design, and again it became his duty to wash the dishes, a task at which his soul revolted.
There was still enough to do around the camp, and when the breakfast dishes were cleared away, the blankets brought forth and hung up for an airing and the tent tidied, they decided to build a dining table. This was located beneath a tree that would afford cool shade in the middle of the day. There four stakes were driven into the ground for legs, to the tops of which, running lengthwise, were nailed long, straight poles, hewn flat on two sides with the axe. Then, taking one of the larger boxes carefully to pieces by drawing the nails, they obtained boards sufficient to form the table top. Following this, a bench on the same principle was made on each side of the table.
“There,” said Stone in satisfaction, as he stood back and surveyed the completed work, “that looks pretty good to me. Now we can dine in comfort, like civilized human beings.”
By this time the forenoon was advancing and the sun blazing hotly from an unclouded sky. However, a slight breeze had risen to ripple the lake, and its tempering breath blew gratefully across the point, proving that, considering the season, the camping spot had been well chosen for comfort.
“I wonder where that sleepy Dutchman can be?” speculated Rodney.
As if in answer, the sound of wagon wheels were heard, and in a few moments the old white horse came into view, drawing a farm wagon on which the canoe rested, bottom upward. Sitting on the wagon, a dumpy figure held the reins and nodded with every swaying movement, eyes tightly closed. Even when the old horse came to a full stop a short distance from the camp, Carl Duckelstein slept on.
“What do you think of that, fellows?” laughed Grant.
Awkwardly tiptoeing forward, Crane reached the wagon, bent forward, placed his lips within a foot of Carl’s head and gave utterance to an ear-splitting yell. If he had expected to see the Dutch boy awaken in a terrified manner, Sile was much disappointed, for Carl slowly lifted one hand, brushed at his ear, and thickly mumbled: