“Isn’t he jolly?” exclaimed Dick when they were out of his hearing.
“Bully,” said Dick.
“He’s all right,” added Chub. “Nothing stuck-up about him. I knew an artist chap at home once and he was a chump. Always talking about when he studied in Rome. I asked him once if he meant Rome, Georgia, and he got all het up about it.”
They went back to camp by way of Point Harriet and Billy Noon’s camping place, but, as usual, Billy wasn’t at home.
“If people keep on coming here,” said Roy, “we’ll have a regular village pretty soon. Already the population has increased fifty per cent. That’s pretty near the record, I guess.”
“We ought to establish a form of government,” said Chub. “I’ll be mayor.”
“You’re too modest,” replied Roy. “You ought to try and fight against it, Chub.”
“It’s no use,” Chub sighed. “I was born that way. Lots of folks have spoken about it.”
“Well, I don’t care who’s mayor,” said Dick, “if I can be chief of police.”
When they got back to camp Dick remarked casually: “This would be a dandy afternoon to do a little painting, wouldn’t it?”