“Speede, is it? Well, he’s real slow compared to you, Tom, when it comes to candy.”
They unanimously voted Aunt Louisa a “brick,” and hospitably pressed her to come again. And in the afternoon, when the camp turned out in a body and traveled to the ball field for the first game of the season, Aunt Louisa was escorted in state. The box of candy didn’t go along however; they had lost the edge of their appetite. So Tom bore the depleted box to Maple Hall, and, because his locker no longer locked, and because the sign artistically done on the door with a hot poker, which sign surrounded a grinning skull and cross-bones and read, “Danger! Keep Out!” had no meaning for the other occupants of the hall, he secreted it at the head of his bunk under the mattress.
Chicora’s adversary that day was Camp Trescott. Trescott was situated directly across the lake in Joy’s Cove. It was a small camp, and the dozen and a half fellows inhabiting it were all from one school. Trescott rather prided itself on being select. But select or not, it wasn’t much at baseball, and Chicora had little difficulty in winning as she pleased. But despite a very one-sided score—17 to 3—there were some good plays, and the spectators were well repaid for their half-mile walk through the woods. Bob found plenty of things that needed remedying, but on the whole the Chicora team played very well for a first game.
There was quite a gallery of spectators at the evening plunge, and Dan excelled himself at diving, bringing forth screams of terrified protest from Aunt Louisa, who “just knew that Mr. Hurry would drown himself, if he didn’t break his neck first!” Even Nelson, who of late had been profiting by Dan’s instruction, did some very respectable stunts in the line of what Tom called “high and lofty tumbling.” Aunt Louisa, together with nearly a dozen other guests, stayed to supper and camp-fire, being taken back to Chicora Inn at nine in the steam-launch. A dozen or so of the boys went along with the guests, the Four among them. There was a jolly big white moon that made a wide sparkling path across the water, and there was a nice nippy little breeze from the east that rendered the seats about the boiler very popular. Mr. Clinton ran the launch, and coming back he made no protest when Bob, who was at the wheel, turned the head of the Chicora across the lake and hugged the opposite shore all the way back, explaining sotto voce to Nelson that “the longest way around was the shortest way home.”
It was after ten when they finally made the landing, and nearly half past when, having helped the Chief make fast the boat for the night and partaken of a lunch of milk and crackers in the dining-hall, the Four tumbled into bed and put out their lanterns. And it was just about midnight when a heartrending shriek broke out on the stillness and brought every fellow into a sitting position in his bunk with visions of murder. In the momentary silence ensuing there was a loud thump of a body striking the floor, the building shook on its foundations, and Mr. Verder’s alarmed voice rang out:
“What’s the matter? Who yelled, fellows?”
“Wha-wha-wha-what’s the mu-mu-mu-matter?” shrieked a voice midway down the hall. “I du-du-dunno what’s the mu-mu-mu—what’s the mu-mu-mu-matter! I only know I’m bu-bu-bu-being eat-tu-tu-eaten alive!”
A howl of laughter rewarded the explanation, and lanterns were quickly lighted. Dan was one of the first on the scene. Tom, his blankets scattered around him, stood in his pajamas with staring eyes and busy hands. First he rubbed and slapped one part of his body, then another, and all the time he kept up an indignant stuttering.
“Tu-tu-talk about pu-pu-pu-pins an’ nu-nu-needles! Gu-gu-gee! Su-su-somebody’s put a whole pu-pu-pu-package of ’em in mu-mu-my bed!”
“Shut up your howling,” said Dan with a grin. “What’s the fun?”