"What d'ye think I want, a collection of freaks broken loose from the
lunatic asylum? Here, you, Will, be dishing out some more bacon on to
your plate; Frank, take up the coffee-pot and be helping Bluff. Uncle
Toby, just look pleasant."
"Pretend you found my gun, and I was giving you half a dollar, Uncle
Toby," remarked Bluff, quickly.
"Always thinking of that cheap, clap-trap affair," growled Jerry.
"Goodness knows if we'll hear anything else from him all the time we're
in camp. I declare I've half a notion--"
"To do what?" asked Frank, looking at him suspiciously.
Jerry only smiled and shrugged his shoulders.
"Now, hold your positions, fellows. Frank, lean a little forward, so your
face stands out better; there, that's right. Toby, raise your head and
point up as if you saw a bird in that tree. That's good, all right; it's
over. Thank you!"
Will kept his position for a little while, and every few minutes seemed
to find a chance to snap off another view. He evidently believed in
getting a variety of the main subject of their outing--the home camp.
"I move we try and find old Jesse Wilcox this morning," suggested Frank.
"That suits me, if we don't have to go too far," agreed Jerry.
Pages:
43
44
45
46
47
48
49
50
51
52
53
54
55
56
57
58
59
60
61
62
63
64
65
66
67