“Shut your eyes,” called Bob Baker to his friend Jerry Hopkins, as the two boys sat in the library of Bob’s home.
“Never mind. Just shut ’em; that’s all.”
“No tricks now. I don’t want a mouthful of salt, or find that I’m all tangled up in a folding chair.”
“No, this is something on my own account. Shut your eyes.”
“All right. Here goes.”
Jerry accommodatingly closed his eyelids. He opened them almost immediately as he heard a loud thump in the room.
“What was that?” he asked.
“That was yours truly,” explained Bob.
“I threw my Latin grammar and my algebra over there behind the bookcase.”
“What in the world did you do that for?”
“Because I don’t want to see ’em again until after vacation, and I didn’t want to see where they fell for fear I’d be tempted to do some studying to work off my conditions. And I didn’t want you to see where they went to for fear you’d tell me. So I just shut my eyes and let ’em go. They’re safe, and when they clean house in the fall they’ll find ’em. It’ll be time enough then to begin studying. Vacation’s here! Hurrah for a good time with nothing to do but have fun!”
“That’s so; to-day is the last one for school for more than two months,” remarked Jerry.
“As if you’d forgotten it!”
“Well, I wasn’t thinking of it, though I’m glad we don’t have to do any more studying for a while. There’ll only be the closing exercises this afternoon and then—”
“Yes, then what?” asked Bob. “What are we going to do with ourselves this vacation?”
“Go somewhere in our motor boat I guess,” replied Jerry. “But isn’t that a Latin grammar I see sticking out under the edge of the bookcase?” and he pretended to start to pull forth the volume.
“Don’t you dare touch it!” cried Bob. “Shut your eyes so you can’t see it!”
Jerry, however, dodging Bob’s outstretched arms, reached for the book.
“It’s a sea story!” he exclaimed. “Looks like a good one, too, from the pictures.”
“Give it to me! I was looking all over for that. Guess I must have dislodged it when I threw my school books back there. It is a corking good yarn.”
“Well, Chunky,” went on Jerry (giving Bob the nickname fastened on him because of his overabundance of flesh), “are the adventures in that anything like those we had last summer down at Harmon Beach?”
“Couldn’t touch ’em! Those were ‘adventures as were adventures,’ as Salt-Water Sam would say,” remarked Bob, giving his trousers a nautical hitch in memory of the odd character to which he referred. “I only hope we are as lucky in striking a good time this summer as we were on the Atlantic coast.”
“We generally have been pretty fortunate in that respect,” said Jerry. “I haven’t thought much about it this year. I studied rather hard to win the prize scholarship.”
“Yes, and you got it, which is more to the point, Jerry. As for me, the harder I bone away the less I seem to know. I don’t want to hear school mentioned again for three months. What do you say to having something to eat?”
“Just had my breakfast. Besides it’s most time to go to—Oh, I forgot, you don’t want me to mention school. Well, I’ll call it the place of learning.”
“Nobody will be on time this last day,” responded Bob. “I had breakfast myself, but it was an early one, and I can eat again.”
“Never saw the time when you couldn’t,” observed Jerry, taking care to get beyond the reach of Bob’s fist.
“Have a glass of milk, Jerry.”
“Well, I don’t mind that.”
“I’m going to have some and a bit of bread and jam,” went on Bob, as he disappeared in the direction of the kitchen.
He came back presently with what looked like enough for a substantial meal for two hungry boys. Jerry said nothing, as he was familiar with the eating capacity of his chum.
“Here comes Ned!” exclaimed Jerry as he finished his glass of milk. “Better get some more jam, Bob.”
“I will,” and before Jerry could stop him Bob had hurried off again. He returned with more refreshments just as Ned Slade came in.
|Publisher:||Lost Leaf Publications|
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