The Adventure Club Afloat | Page 2

ever happens to me in vacation. It's all well enough
for you fellows to laugh. You're going up to college together in the Fall.
I'm coming back to this rotten hole all alone!"
"Not quite alone, Sweet Youth," corrected Joe. "There will be some
four hundred other fellows here."
"Oh, well, you know what I mean," said Perry impatiently. "You and
Steve will be gone, and I don't give a hang for any other chaps!"
He ended somewhat defiantly, conscious that he had indulged in a most
unmanly display of sentiment, and was glad that the darkness hid the
confusion and heightened colour that followed the confession. Steve
and Joe charitably pretended not to have noticed the lamentable
exhibition of feeling, and a silence followed, during which the voices

of the singers once more became audible.
"_Dexter! Mother of our Youth! Dexter! Guardian of the Truth!_"
"_Cut it out!_" Perry leaned over the windowsill and bawled the
command down into the darkness. A defiant jeer answered him.
"Don't be fresh," said Steve reprovingly. Perry mumbled and relapsed
into silence. Presently, sighing as he changed his position, Joe said:
"I believe Perry's right about vacation, Steve. Nothing much ever does
happen to a fellow in Summer. I believe I've had more fun in school
than at home the last six years."
The others considered the statement a minute. Then: "Correct," said
Steve. "It's so, I guess. We're always crazy to get home in June and just
as crazy to get back to school again in September, and I believe we all
have more good times here than at home."
"Of course we do," agreed Perry animatedly. "Anyway, I do. Summers
are all just the same. My folks lug me off to the Water Gap and we stay
there until it's time to come back here. I play tennis and go motoring
and sit around on the porch and--and--bathe--"
"Let's hope so," interpolated Joe gravely.
"And nothing really interesting ever happens," ended Perry
despairingly. "Gee, I'd like to be a pirate or--or something!"
"Summers are rather deadly," assented Steve. "We go to the seashore,
but the place is filled with swells, and about all they do is change their
clothes, eat and sleep. When you get ready for piracy, Perry, let me
know, will you! I'd like to sign-on."
"Put me down, too," said Joe. "I've always had a--um--sneaking idea
that I'd make a bully pirate. I'm naturally bloodthirsty and cruel. And
I've got a mental list of folks who--um--I'd like to watch walk the
plank!"

"Fellows of our ages have a rotten time of it, anyway," Perry grumbled.
"We're too old to play kids' games and too young to do anything worth
while. What I'd like to do--"
"Proceed, Sweet Youth," Joe prompted after a moment.
"Well, I'd like to--to start something! I'd like to get away somewhere
and do things. I'm tired of loafing around in white flannels all day and
keeping my hands clean. And I'm tired of dabbing whitewash on my
shoes! Didn't you fellows ever think that you'd like to get good and
dirty and not have to care? Wouldn't you like to put on an old flannel
shirt and a pair of khaki trousers and some 'sneakers' and--and roll in
the mud?"
"Elemental stuff," murmured Joe. "He's been reading Jack London."
"Well, that's the way I feel, lots of times," said Perry defiantly. "I'm
tired of being clean and white, and I'm tired of dinner jackets, and I'm
sick to death of hotel porches! Gee, a healthy chap never was intended
to lead the life of a white poodle with a pink ribbon around his neck!
Me for some rough-stuff!"
"You're dead right, too," agreed Steve. "That kind of thing is all right
for Joe, of course. Joe's a natural-born 'fusser.' He's never happier than
when he's dolled up in a sport-shirt and a lavender scarf and toasting
marshmallows. But--"
"Is that so?" inquired Joe with deep sarcasm. "If I was half the 'fusser'
you are--"
"What I want," interrupted Perry, warming to his theme, "is adventure!
I'd like to hunt big game, or discover the North Pole--"
"You're a year or two late," murmured Joe.
"--or dig for hidden treasure!"
"You should--um--change your course of reading," advised Joe. "Too

much Roosevelt and Peary and Stevenson is your trouble. Read the
classics for awhile--or the Patty Books."
"That's all right, but you chaps are just the same, only you won't own
up to it."
"One of us will," said Steve; "and does."
"Make it two," yawned Joe. "Beneath this--um--this polished exterior
there beats a heart--I mean there flows the red blood of--"
"Look here, fellows, why not?" asked Steve.
"Why not what?" asked Perry.
"Why not have adventures? They say that all you have to do is look for