Sam hesitated. “I—why, I suppose—I——” Then he had an inspiration. “Look here, Lon! What’s your advice?”
“Stick to it!” said Lon emphatically. “Hold your crowd up to the mark. You’re right; the other feller’s wrong. He’s bound to lose in the end. If things didn’t work out that way in the long run, this old world would ’a’ needed a ‘Tenants wanted’ sign back in the time o’ the cave-men. Fight it out, Sam; fight it out, if it takes all summer!”
“Looks as if it might,” Sam confessed.
Lon dropped a hand on his shoulder. “You stand to your guns, sonny! And you make your club stand to theirs. Find something to amuse ’em, something outdoors. I’m great on the open-air treatment.... Let’s see! If ’twas vacation, I’d say, go campin’. But, say! you can work a scheme sorter in that line, anyhow. Why don’t you turn to and build a shack in the woods near town? Oughtn’t to be too close—let ’em have plenty of exercise, travelin’ back and forth.”
Sam meditated briefly. “I—well, I do know of that cracking place—out by the lake. It’s pretty far, though.”
“That’s no objection—not for your purpose. Every time you walk ’em a mile, there’s fifteen or twenty minutes used up that won’t be put into mopin’. Get the idea?”
“Yes,” said Sam, “I do.”
“’Tain’t the wust I ever offered you, son.”
“The more I think of it, the better I like it,” said Sam; and departed to offer Lon’s suggestion to the other members of the club.
The Trojan received it with indifference. “I don’t care—I’m just a passenger,” he declared. Orkney at once said yes, and said it heartily. Herman Boyd was ready for anything. The Shark had no objections to interpose. Then Sam sought out Poke, and found him in his barn, with Step bearing him company.