There was Fleet’s canoe from Mortonville, and three brand new ones that had come by freight from New York. And staring up from one of them in the blackest of black letters was the name “Pod Meelick.”
“Say, fellows, am I dreaming?” cried Pod. “That—that surely isn’t for me?”
“Must be—your name is on it,” said Tom.
“But I never ordered anything like that—I—”
Seeing tears in the little lad’s eyes, the Comrades burst into a roar of laughter, and Pod after a moment joined them, but his was a laugh bordering on the hysterical. It was several minutes before they got him calmed down, and told him that the canoe was a present from the Experience Club.
“And you mean—you mean that I am going on your canoe trip?” asked Pod, his eyes fairly bulging from their sockets.
“If you will do us the honor,” said Chot.
“Oh, this is the best thing that has ever happened to me. I was just wondering what I would do during vacation. It would certainly have been lonesome in Bayville after the good times I’ve had.”
They arranged to have the canoes taken to the Winton boat house, where they could be kept until the day after commencement, when the boys were to start on their summer trip up the river.
On their way back to the school the boys met Truem Wright, who came toward them along the sidewalk in front of the gym. Truem looked rather glum, they thought, and to show their good will each of the boys spoke courteously to him.