South they sailed, past the flag at Camp Amoussock, past the cove with the shacks on each side, past Joseph Hastings’ private dock, almost down to Gosport before Tuckerman came about.
North to the island and dinner. And as they sat on the bank afterwards and Tuckerman smoked his pipe, he said, “Well, to-morrow I must start back to the city. But I tell you, I’ve learned more since I’ve camped out in Barmouth Harbor than I ever learned in college.”
“If you stayed here much longer,” said David, “you’d be almost as learned as Benjie.”
“I don’t know about that,” Tuckerman answered. “I’m not as keen-witted as he is. I’m more lazy, like you, Dave.”
David grinned. “Well, it takes something really important to make me move around. I wouldn’t go trailing a snuff-box all over the country.”
“It takes Lanky Larry’s pitching,” said Tom. “Dave has to get mad before he does his best work.”
“I wasn’t mad. I was cool as a cucumber,” David responded. “I have a nice friendly nature.”
“If it hadn’t been for my following the snuffbox,” Ben spoke up, “Joseph Hastings wouldn’t have come out here and given his party; and if he hadn’t given his party and told us to get our costumes up in the attic, I wouldn’t have noticed that wallpaper; and if I hadn’t noticed the wallpaper we’d never have found the treasure. Q. E. D.”
“There!” exclaimed David, “Ben’s off again! No, Professor, I was wrong; you couldn’t possibly be as learned as he is; nobody could.”
“I’ve half a mind to duck you for that,” said Ben.