“I’m not stopping you,” replied George. “Come back and tell me what to do.”
“I told you,” exclaimed Fred. “Go and drown yourself.”
“Where’d you get it, Pop?” repeated John and immediately went off into gales of laughter.
“You caught the trout all right,” laughed Fred. “You caught something else. Something a good deal bigger than that fish too.”
“Isn’t it awful!” exclaimed John holding on to his nose. “I remember my younger brother once ran across a skunk like this and he had to live in the barn for two days.”
“To think that Pop should be the one, too,” said Fred delightedly. “It seems almost too good to be true.”
“It’s true all right enough,” said Grant grimly. “Go up close to him if you don’t believe it.”
“What shall I do?” called George to his three unsympathetic companions. He was standing near the fire, anguish depicted on his face. He was in a sorry plight, for no matter where he went he could not escape the almost overpowering odor that clung to him.
“Take all your clothes off and throw them in the lake,” said Grant. “Then go take a swim yourself.
“After that we might let you come back,” added Fred.