"You bet it is, old man," exclaimed the New York boy. "But say, Bob, I guess you'd better not do much talking till you get a bite to eat. Ready, eh?"
"For a mile of anything but blackberries," smiled Bob.
"Out in the wilds, I was forgetting my parlor manners—Bob, this is Stuart Wells."
The two again shook hands.
"And now," laughed Wells, "those other castaways are getting impatient. Who's that yelling?"
"Sam Randall," said Bob. "Hi, hi!" he shouted. "Ready, eh? Come ahead!"
Stuart Wells stood calmly, with lariat in hand. He watched Sam Randall spring into the water, and at the critical moment again sent the rope in a graceful curve through the air.
Bob Somers drew a breath of relief when he saw his chum seize it.
No sooner had Sam been assisted to a place of safety on the ledge than Dave Brandon followed his example, and the good-natured "poet" soon joined the group.
It was a happy reunion, but even in their thankfulness the Ramblers could not forget the clamoring of nature.