“The mischief! That’s no place to spend the night,” said Dick, disgustedly.
“Why not?” Roy asked. “Some folks have to live there all the year round!”
“We don’t have to stop there,” said Chub. “We’ll cross the river and find a nice, quiet spot along the Palisades.”
“And as we’ll have to have some dinner—”
“Supper,” corrected Chub.
“You’d better start about now to get your hands clean, Dick. I never cared for the flavor of cylinder oil.”
“Seems to me,” said Dick, “I’m in for a lot of work. When I signed for this trip I didn’t know I was to be engineer and cook, too.”
“Oh, yes, you did, Dickums. You knew it, but you didn’t realize it.”
“Well, then, you fellows needn’t complain if you don’t get all your meals on time,” answered Dick, morosely.
“No, we won’t complain; we’ll simply throw you overboard. But I think Roy had better take lessons in engineering so that you can have your Thursday afternoons off. Dickums, take him
