Nick called out after them three times, begging them on each occasion to be sure and not forget a certain thing of which he happened to be particularly fond. Josh poked a whole lot of fun at the fat boy, and warned him to beware lest he equal the enormous girth of Mr. Amos in a short time if he did not curb that tremendous appetite.
“Oh! don’t you fret about that,” Nick answered. “In good time I expect to gradually cut down my rations until I become as skinny as you. Then, like enough, I’ll want to jump overboard and end it all.”
That was always Nick’s way—_tomorrow_ he meant to start in regulating his diet; but as usual with those who put off the evil day, tomorrow never seemed to come.
Jack saw to it that the eatables were put up in three separate packages all around, so that they could be handed over to the several boats without division. This helped wonderfully, for there was no choosing, and no ill feeling because one happened to get a better looking assortment than the others.
“It’s near stopping time, fellows!” called Nick, as he squatted on a seat, like a big toad, Josh said, and wiped the perspiration from his rosy face.
“Well, I guess everything’s ready,” added Jack.
“Ditto here,” came from Herb. “And Josh is already rustling the kettles, as if he meant business. So I move we pull out again and anchor. When the gent comes we can get him aboard with the help of this rowboat he hired for us.”
That sort of talk seemed to satisfy every one; and accordingly they set about working the motor boats to the positions they had occupied previously, at the time their mudhooks were down.
Then began great preparations for a feast. Both the other boats handed over their several batteries for cooking. Their previous experience had taught George and Herb a lesson, so that they had discarded their cumbersome oil lamps, and now each rejoiced in a fine new, brass Jewel gas oil-stove, of the same reliable German brand as that which Jack carried when on the famous Mississippi trip, now but a fond memory.
And they were surely a busy lot, every one working under the directions of the head _chef_. Josh might play second, and even third fiddle, many times; but when it came to cooking he was right there, as he himself said, “with the goods.” Some boys may seem gifted in one way, and a comrade shine in another; it was the privilege of Josh Purdue to be a natural born cook. He could throw together the most appetizing dishes with apparently little effort. Everything he touched had a decidedly delightful taste. And even Buster admitted that he stood without a peer, monarch of all he surveyed.