"What kept you so long?" asked Randy in a slightly aggrieved tone.
"That," replied Clay, pointing at Nugget. "He arrived in town this afternoon, and came to the house after supper. I knew you fellows would be glad to see him, so I brought him along. But what do you think?" added Clay, winking slyly at Ned and Randy, "Nugget says he's going canoeing with us."
This piece of information produced a startling effect. Ned puckered his lips and gave a low whistle. Randy stared at Clay for an instant and then burst into a laugh.
Why this avowal on Nugget's part was received in such a peculiar way will be more clearly understood if a few words be said about that young gentleman himself.
Nugget was a New York boy, greatly addicted to cream colored clothes, white vests, patent leather shoes, high collars, gorgeous neckties, kid gloves, and canes.
He was about seventeen years old, and was tall and slender.
He had gray eyes, a sandy complexion and straight flaxen hair, which he wore banged over his forehead. A vacuous stare usually rested on his face, and he spoke in a slow, aggravating drawl.
Nugget had made the acquaintance cf the boys during the previous summer, which he spent with his uncle in Harrisburg. He was a good enough fellow in some ways, but the several occasions on which he had been induced to go on fishing and boating excursions, had resulted in disaster and ridicule at poor Nugget's expense.
"What Nugget doesn't know about swell parties, and dancing, and operas isn't worth knowing," Clay Halsey had said at that time; "but when it comes to matters of sport he doesn't know any more than a two days' old kitten."
The truth of this terse remark was readily appreciated by Clay's companions, and their present amazement and consternation on learning that Nugget wanted to go canoeing with them, can be easily conceived.