“Bully for you!” Chub cried, clapping him on the back. “We’ll make a man of you yet, Dickums!”
At that moment Billy Noon returned, reporting success, and jumped aboard to be taken back to the island. Mr. Cole had offered him hospitality until his cat-boat was restored to him and had placed the tender at his services. Dick started the engine and the Pup barked her way back to the island. The boys were rather thoughtful, although the prospect of meeting again the next summer had taken away the sting of present parting. Billy, too, was unusually silent, and the trip was a quiet one indeed for the Pup. The artist appeared on the after deck of the Jolly Roger as they approached and waved a handful of brushes at them.
“What luck?” he roared.
“Found them both,” answered Dick. The Pup sidled up to the house-boat and they put off Billy and the groceries.
“Everything’s there,” said Dick. “And I’ll come around about four o’clock and get to work.”
As they rounded School Point on their way to the anchorage they sighed regretfully as the camp came into view. The white tent in the green clearing had never looked so homelike and so attractive as then.
At four Dick, dressed in his best camp attire, went over to the Jolly Roger to enter upon his duties as chef and caterer. Chub and Roy got into the crimson canoe and went for a paddle, realizing that it might be the last one they would take together in those waters.
“I won’t have much time to crate this canoe to-morrow,” said Chub.
“I’d forgotten about that,” Roy replied. “It seems funny to think that we’re pulling out of here for keeps, doesn’t it? And Dick will have to get the Pup stored somewhere, I guess, until he comes back in the fall.”
“Johnson, the fellow who has his ice-boat, will look after it for him, I guess. He will have to take her down to-morrow. Hello, there goes Billy.”