“I don’t believe I can, Speede. I promised Bob Hethington to help him mend his camera.”
“Oh, let that go. I’ll ask him to come along.”
“Well,” said Nelson.
Bob consented, and the three tumbled into the dory and set out. The distance to the Chicora Inn landing was short, if you kept along the shore; but Dan suggested prolonging the trip by going around Bass Island, with the result that they navigated most of the upper end of the lake before they reached their destination. Dan was evidently on his best behavior, for the trip was completed without misadventure, and they got back to camp just as assembly sounded.
After that Nelson and Dan saw a good deal of each other, and the more they were together the more Nelson liked the big, handsome, red-headed fellow with the clear blue eyes, and began to understand him better. There wasn’t a grain of meanness in his make-up. The jokes he was forever playing were usually harmless enough, and served as outlets for an oversupply of animal spirits. Nelson thought he had never seen a fellow more full of life, more eager for adventure and fun, than Dan. He would go almost any length to secure a laugh, even if it was against himself, and toil for days at a time to bring about an event promising excitement. He seemed to be absolutely without fear, and no one ever saw him really angry.
Nelson’s liking for Dan was not, however, altogether shared by Bob, who dubbed Dan’s tricks and jokes “kiddish,” and usually treated him with a sort of contemptuous indifference. As a rule he avoided Dan’s society, and finally Nelson was torn between his allegiance to Bob and his liking for Dan. Affairs stood thus when, about two weeks after Nelson’s arrival, the election of captain of the baseball team came off, and Dan played a card which, if it did not at once gain Bob’s friendship, at least commanded his gratitude.
At camp-fire Mr. Clinton announced that he had received a note from Camp Wickasaw asking when Chicora would be ready to arrange a series of ball games with them.
“Last year,” said the Chief, “as those of you know who were here then, Wickasaw won all three games from us. There’s no disgrace in being beaten, but it’s lots more fun to beat. So this year let’s see if we can’t do better. They have fewer fellows than we have, and last year we allowed them to play their councilors. I guess it was that that beat us. But it was only fair, and unless you fellows object they will make use of the same privilege this year. How about it?” and Mr. Clinton looked about the fire-lit group questioningly.
“Let them use them, sir,” exclaimed one of the boys. “We can beat them anyhow.”
“That’s so, sir; and there’ll be more glory in it,” said another.