very wide. Chub’s gaze wandered off to the scenery.
“Oh, just—just because,” he answered, vaguely.
Shortly before ten the Slow Poke was on her way again, dropping down the river with, for the Slow Poke, almost marvelous speed.
“At this rate,” sighed Harry to Chub, “we shall be home long before supper-time.”
“Well, for my part,” answered Chub, turning the spokes of the wheel idly back and forth, “I’m about ready to eat some one else’s cooking. But don’t whisper it to Dick.”
“This will be our last—I mean my last dinner on board,” said Harry, regretfully. “Don’t you think we might find a real pretty place to stop, Chub?”
“To be sure, we can; and we’ll make a farewell banquet of it and eat everything nice we’ve got! You take the wheel a minute, and I’ll give orders to my worthless crew.”
They made quite a ceremony of that dinner. Dick, imbued with the spirit of the occasion, made a jelly omelet as a pièce de résistance, and piled
