“That’s a good scheme,” exclaimed Fred heartily. “Let’s go and get our few belongings just as soon as we can and bring them up here.”
“A fine idea,” agreed George. “String, I didn’t think you knew so much.”
“That proves that you know very little yourself, then,” replied John scornfully.
“Ha, ha. Good one, String,” cried Fred laughingly. “Give him another.”
“He is not worth bothering about,” said John. “Let’s get our things.”
Down the side of the hill they scrambled, slipping and sliding down the steep decline. They came to the bottom in safety, however, and it was not long before they reached the spot where the baggage had been left.
“Where’s Sam?” exclaimed Grant. “He certainly can’t be sleeping still.”
“There he is,” said Fred, pointing down the beach.
“What’s he got in his hand?” said George curiously. “It looks like a knife.”
“Where could he get a knife?” exclaimed John. “Just as I told you a few minutes ago, Pop, you’ve certainly got something missing in that head of yours.”