"It looks like it," admitted the old sailor, carefully.
"How does it smell?" asked the young millionaire, holding it toward the old salt.
"It certainly do smell like it," further confessed Widdy.
"It is it!" insisted Dick. "Now the crew will have some for supper to-night, and I guess you fellows will admit that I can make a sailor's plum pudding as good as the next one."
With a smile of triumph at his chums, Dick advanced toward them, bearing the smoking platter. He was going to display the duff to them, but, as he neared the rail, the yacht lurched, and Dick gave a little jump to retain his balance. The platter tilted. The plum duff began to slide off.
"Look out!" shouted Frank Bender, making a spring toward Dick.
"I've got it!" cried the millionaire's son. He tried to straighten up, and, at the same time, keep the platter on a level keel. A moment later, before the eyes of all his chums, the elaborate concoction slid off the big plate, over the yacht's rail, and splashed down into the sea.
"Plum duff overboard! Plum duff overboard!" yelled old Widdy, stumping forward and catching up a coil of rope on the way. "Plum duff overboard! Lower a boat!"
"Well, split—my—lee—scuppers!" exclaimed Dick, slowly, as he peered over the side. "Wouldn't that frazzle your main topsail!"
