“Sort of a shorthand effect,” said Chub, thoughtfully. “But why not put it the other way, and call it Rotodi? I think Rotodi is much more musical to the ear.”
“Lend me your pencil,” said Dick. “I’ve got a better one.”
“Let him have it, Roy,” Chub said. “In the end you’ll all come back to my suggestion; you can’t beat Camp Thomas H. Eaton if you spoil all the bark on the tree. Hand him a new piece of bark Roy; humor him; let him have his way.”
“Say, can’t you stop talking for a minute?” demanded Dick.
Chub grinned and accepted the suggestion. In a minute Dick said triumphantly:
“I’ve got it! Camp Sopœa!”
“So—what?” asked Chub.
“How do you get that?” inquired Roy.
“First two letters of our last names,” answered Dick, proudly.
“Sounds like Camp Sapolio,” Chub objected, “and if you’re going in for that sort of thing I think Camp Pearline would be much prettier.”