“Sick nothing!” growled Pod. “There isn’t a muscle in my body that I can move. I don’t know what I’m going to do, fellows. You’ll have to go off and leave me.”
“Well, won’t that be too bad?” said Fleet. “Of course, we’ll go and leave you. Won’t give you anything to eat, either. We are cold, heartless creatures, Podsy, and we don’t care what happens to you.”
“Shut up with your sermons, Fleet Kenby. If you had my back and stomach, and arms and legs, and feet and——”
“And a few other things, why, then I’d be Pod Meelick, wouldn’t I?” and Fleet grinned broadly.
“Stop laughing at me! This is no laughing matter! Lend a hand, Chot, and see if I can sit up.”
Chot pulled the little fellow carefully into a sitting position, Pod letting off a groan or a shriek at every move.
“Oh, dear, I’ve counted so much on the delights of canoeing, fellows. I—I never thought I’d have to go through this—honest I didn’t.”
“Oh, be a man!” advised Fleet.
“Be one yourself!” was Pod’s retort.
“We’ll limber you up, youngster,” said Chot.