“If the day fellows get wind of it they’ll be sure to try to do us,” was the unfailing reply.
“Why shouldn’t I know as well as you?” demanded I.
Whereupon it was explained that nobody knew where the place was to be yet—nor indeed was he likely to know till the morning of the day, when lots would be drawn.
Every member of the council would then be permitted to write the name of a place on a piece of paper, which would be shuffled in a hat and drawn for—the last paper drawn to be the place. I could not help admiring the elaborateness of the precautions, which had only this drawback, as far as I was concerned, that I did not yet know one place from another.
I casually asked Dicky one day if he knew any of the places round.
“What for, picnics and that sort of thing?” he demanded.
“Well—that sort of thing,” said I, anxious not to betray my object too precisely.
“I don’t know. I heard some chaps talking about Camp Hill Bottom—where the battle was, you know.”
I did not know, but it sounded a likely place, and I made a mental note of it for the eventful day.
Meanwhile there was much to be decided. First, as to the applicants for admission on reduced terms, it was agreed if these brought their fair share of provender, and in consideration of their being taken on the cheap would undertake to row or tow the boats up stream, they might come. Then as to the bill of fare, it was resolved that no one should be allowed to take more than he could carry in his pockets—great-coat pockets not to be used.