However, String, take hold here awhile and give me
a rest."
"Where are we going to stop for dinner?" inquired George. "This
mad race has brought on an attack of hunger with me."
"That's all right," laughed Fred. "I think the only thing you can
say is that you are less hungry some times than others. We can
stop anywhere you want."
"Then I say we stop at Poughkeepsie," said Grant.
"Poughkeepsie will do for me all right," said John soberly.
A half-hour later the graceful little motor-boat was lying
alongside a dock at Poughkeepsie. Two of the boys had remained on
board to guard their possessions while two had gone to a
restaurant to purchase a luncheon with which they were to return
to the boat.
John and George had volunteered their services for the latter
purpose and about fifteen minutes after their departure George
was seen returning to the dock, his arms well laden with packages
of fruit and sandwiches.
"Where's String?" Fred asked as his friend stepped on board and
deposited his packages.
"I don't know. I lost him up here."
"Poor John. Lost in Poughkeepsie. I'm afraid we'll have to
advertise."
"There's one thing we won't do though," said Grant.
"What's that?" inquired Fred.
"We shan't wait for him to come before we begin operations."
"It does my heart good to hear you speak so truthfully," said
George, as at once he opened the packages and passed the various
articles of food which he had obtained.
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