“Huh! Any idea where we are?”
“Not an idea.”
“I scouted around a bit,” said Herman. “No sign of a road or other houses.”
Sam nodded. “My notion,” he said, “is that we’ve tumbled on some way-out, back-of-nowhere abandoned farm. It’s been abandoned so many years that the brush has sprung up all about it. Somehow I don’t believe it’s near any village. And now that we’re here—well, Safety First, you know.”
“That’s right!” chimed in the Trojan.
“We’ll be safe enough,” Sam went on. “We’ll lay in plenty of wood, and keep the fire going—and that’s about all we can do.”
Poke laid a hand on his stomach. “That’s well enough,” said he. “Only do I hear anybody suggest dinner or supper? If it’s just the same, I’d like to have ’em both right now.”
The Shark pulled out a big camp doughnut. “The cook gave me this, bless him!” he remarked.
“I ate mine, worse luck!” sighed Herman.
“And I also,” groaned Poke. “It went ages ago.”