came from Bricktop. "You're getting lazier every day, Bill."
"Help yourself," spoke the sleepy youth, as he slumped from the table and stretched out under a tree.
"I guess a trip in the motor boat would suit us all best," observed Dick. "Hannibal 'Rastus, just fill up the gasolene tank, will you?"
"Oh, why wasn't I born rich instead of handsome," murmured Bricktop, who never would have taken a prize in a beauty show. "But my fatal gift of"
"Cut it out!" cried Walter, throwing a pine cone with such good aim, that it went right into Bricktop's open mouth.
"Oh! Ah! Ug! Blug! Chug! Hum!" spluttered the discomfitted one. "Who threw that?" he demanded, when he could speak.
Nobody answered, and, feeling in no mood to get up and chastise Walter, whose sly grin proclaimed him the culprit, Bricktop stretched out again.
"Hark! That sounds like a wagon coming," observed Fred, as he sat up, after a few minutes of silence.
"Guess it's the ice man," said Dick, for he had arranged to have a supply left at the camp. He believed in having all the comforts possible when he went into the woods.
"Doesn't rumble like an ice wagon," commented Bill.
