Boys," returned Chet. "I had it all planned out that Frank and Joe would be coming along with us in their own boat and we'd make a real party of it."
"Can't be done," observed Joe Hardy, settling himself more comfortably in the back of the boat. "There's nothing Frank and I would like better—but duty calls!" he exclaimed dramatically, slapping himself on the chest.
"Duty, my neck!" grunted Frank. "We just have to stay at home while dad is in Chicago, that's all. It'll be pretty dull without Chet and Biff around to help us kill time."
"You can put in the hours thinking of Biff and me," consoled Chet. "At night you can just picture us sitting around our campfire away up the coast, and in the daytime you can imagine us speeding away out over the bounding main." He postured with one foot on the gunwale. "A sailor's life for me, my hearties! Yo, ho, and a bottle of ink!"
The boat gave a sudden lurch at that moment, for Biff Hooper had not yet mastered the art of navigation and Chet wavered precariously for a few seconds, finally losing his balance and sitting down heavily in a smear of grease at the bottom of the craft.
And he nearly fell into the drink,"
