“Surest thing you know.”
“Those fellows don’t take any interest in my boat,” Jeffrey said.
“Well, I do,” said Garry, “what was the name of that game? I can’t seem to remember it.”
“Mumbly-peg,” said Jeffrey, contemptuously.
“Well, there’s no use getting excited about it,” laughed Garry.
CHAPTER X
THE BIRTHDAY OF THE ELK PATROL
“Maybe I’m not much of a cook, but I’ll make things hot for you if you don’t get away from here!”
Roy Blakeley, from the cooking lean-to, despatched an eggplant (which had not stood the physical test, as he said) straight at the scampering form of Pee-wee Harris, who had raided the sacred precincts of the larder for raisins and was now departing with scurrilous comments on his patrol leader. And the eggplant, faithful to its trust, landed plunk upon Pee-wee’s round, curly head.
“Plant that and raise some scrambled eggs,” Roy called after him.
Roy was assisting the camp cooks, for it was the second anniversary of the forming of the Elk Patrol, and there were to be “doings.”