"That's all right," laughed Fred. "I think the only thing you can say is that you are less hungry some times than others. We can stop anywhere you want."
"Then I say we stop at Poughkeepsie," said Grant.
"Poughkeepsie will do for me all right," said John soberly.
A half-hour later the graceful little motor-boat was lying alongside a dock at Poughkeepsie. Two of the boys had remained on board to guard their possessions while two had gone to a restaurant to purchase a luncheon with which they were to return to the boat.
John and George had volunteered their services for the latter purpose and about fifteen minutes after their departure George was seen returning to the dock, his arms well laden with packages of fruit and sandwiches.
"Where's String?" Fred asked as his friend stepped on board and deposited his packages.
"I don't know. I lost him up here."
"Poor John. Lost in Poughkeepsie. I'm afraid we'll have to advertise."
"There's one thing we won't do though," said Grant.
"What's that?" inquired Fred.