"I have composed a very touching little thing entitled, 'A Mosquito Bite On the Arm Is Worth Two On the Nose.'"
"Maybe it is," said Chot. "Anyway, I heard a few alleged jokes flying around loose awhile ago."
"Yes; and there are more where those came from," said Pod.
"Well, it's up to Fleet now," said Chot. "Proceed Fleetsy."
Fleet proceeded to rattle off a half dozen verses about camping in New Jersey with mosquitoes for companions and ending with "a bite on the arm, is better than two on the nose, oh, tarm." Then he paused.
"What! you don't mean that you have the nerve to perpetrate a thing like that on us and call it a poem?"
"Well, if that isn't the worst I ever heard. Don't you ever, ever start anything like that again."
"What I want to know," said Bert, "is the meaning of the word, 'tarm'."
"'Tarm?'" repeated Fleet. "I used no such word."
"'Is better than two on the nose, oh, tarm,' is the last line."
"Oh, that's so. Well you fellows know what 'tarm' means, don't you?"
"A very lucid explanation," said Pod. "I didn't know the word had so much meaning."
"And you make us tired, reeling off your fake verses, and then because you're at a loss for something to rhyme with arm, bring in a word that has no meaning."
"If you fellows don't like my verses why do you ask me to recite?"
"We won't any more; be sure of that," said Chot. "The idea. 'Tarm!' That's a fine word, and your explanation of its meaning was so clear. Guess you'd better seek your little bed, my boy."
And without another word Fleet obeyed. He knew they were right. The poem had been a makeshift piece of work from beginning to end, and only his eagerness to oblige when they asked for something had led him to recite it. Fleet had a fine talent for rhyming, which would eventually develop into something substantial, but he had a very bad habit of composing his verses quickly, hardly revising them, and throwing in rhymes that were not permissable. To get him out of this habit the boys were now determined, and the lesson on the shore of the lake was but the opening gun in the campaign.
The boys followed their usual plan in the morning of taking a bath in the lake before breakfast. The water was smooth and deep, and they swam and splashed about for half an hour before finally crawling out for a rub down. Then a cup of coffee and such eatables as they had in the canoes made them feel fit for another day's work.