“How about you, Monkey?” demanded Hugh.
“Oh, all I need is a tree with a decent limb to the same! You know I’m something like a bat or a ’possum, and I c’n hang head-down from a branch without any bother. Count me in any game you’ve got on the calendar.”
“That’s settled, then,” asserted Hugh.
“There are some blankets and robes in the lockers of the boat, you know,” suggested Billy, as he scrambled to his feet to stretch himself before starting aboard the launch again.
When a thorough search had been made it was found that there were plenty of covers for the entire quartet.
“Couldn’t be better if we’d planned for this little camping trip,” remarked Monkey, as he began to look around for a good place in which to make up his bed, such as it was going to be.
“The song of the flooded river will be a regular lullaby,” suggested Hugh.
“It may be to you fellows,” observed Tip; “but I own up that I’m not used to going to sleep in the open, and it’s likely to keep me awake. If I do manage to drop off, the chances are I’ll dream of poor people hanging to the roofs of houses that are floating down the river and falling to pieces.”
“You can stand it for one night, though, Tip,” Billy told him.
“Besides, it’s going to be an experience for you worth having,” Monkey told him. “When you meet your chums again you can crow over them.”