“How does it look?” asked Nelson eagerly.
“Swell,” said Dan. “Pull me up.”
They obeyed, and when he crawled over the edge and stood up they all sat down and howled anew. And Dan, just to be sociable, sat down and laughed at his plight until the tears came.
“Oh, Dan, if we could only keep you just as you are!” gasped Nelson, “and use you for a mascot!”
Head and face were as blue as though he had dipped them in the paint-can; his hands and arms were a lighter shade; the stuff had trickled down behind one ear and so down his back, and his jersey was patriotic to a fault.
“What shall I do?” he asked finally. “I can’t go back like this.”
“We’ll land you just across from the village,” said Nelson, “and you can sneak back to camp through the woods. No one will see you, because the crowd will be having soak. Get a lot of kerosene and take a bath in it.”
The plan was the best they could think of, and so it was carried out. The ropes and the rest of the paraphernalia they hid in the woods, and then they got down the hill as fast as their legs would carry them. Going through the village, Dan created quite a little interest, although he modestly strove to avoid notice. They put him ashore a quarter of a mile from camp, and when last seen he was stalking through the trees like an Indian in war-paint. The others got back to the landing in time to hurry into their bathing-trunks and get a few plunges before the signal “All out!” was given. They were very reticent as to what they had been doing, but somehow the secret was all over camp by dinner-time, and the fellows spent the most of the afternoon rowing to and fro across the lake to the point of Black’s Neck, from where an excellent view of the cliff was obtainable. And what they saw pleased them immeasurably. Dan had fairly beaten the Wickasaws at their own game. He had painted his legend in letters fully three feet high at least fifteen feet above theirs, and there could be no comparison either in artistic effect or publicity. Camp Chicora hugged itself in gleeful triumph.
Just before supper Dan ran across Mr. Verder.
“Why, Speede,” asked the latter, stopping him, “aren’t you feeling well?”