George’s one idea was to run away, but the remarkable part of the adventure was that it seemed to be impossible to shake off that from which he was trying to escape.
A moment later he arrived at camp and spying his three friends seated around the fire he made his way towards them. As soon as he reached the spot where they were he threw himself upon the ground and commenced to moan and groan violently.
“Oh, dear, oh, dear,” he cried. “What have I done? What have I done?”
“Why, Pop!” exclaimed Grant in alarm. “What’s the matter with—”
He broke off suddenly in the midst of the sentence and looked at George in horror. All sympathy for the sufferer quickly left him.
“Get out of here!” he cried, but not waiting for George to leave he departed quickly himself. He was accompanied by Fred and John who seemed to be stricken with some strange malady, a mixture of anguish and laughter.
“What shall I do? What shall I do?” cried George as he saw his three friends leaving him.
“Do anything you want,” called Fred. “Drown yourself if you like, but don’t come near me.”
“Where’d you get it, Pop?” shouted John gleefully. “You’d better go soak in the lake for a couple of days.”
“Get away from that fire,” cried Grant. “Our supper is being cooked there and we can’t come back until you leave.”