cowling at it the while, and casting an occasional glance at that which
Dexter had reserved for himself.

"What I says is--play fair," he growled. "I don't want no more than
half."

"But that's the bigger half, Bob."

"I dunno so much about that."

"And this is the one which seemed to be a little gritty."

"Oh, is it?" said Bob surlily; and he began eating in a wolfish fashion,
making fierce snaps and bites at his food, as he held the bread in one
hand, the cheese in the other, and taking alternate mouthfuls.

"Hunger is sweet sauce," and Dexter was not long in following Bob's
example, that is as to the eating, but as he sat there munching away at
the cakey home-made bread, and the strong cheese, in spite of its being
a glorious morning, and the sun showering down in silver pencils through
the overhanging boughs--in spite of the novelty of the scene, and the
freedom, there did not seem to be so much romance in the affair as had
been expected; and try how he would he could not help longing for a good
hot cup of coffee.

This was not heroic, but the boy felt very miserable. He had been up
all night, going through adventures that were, in spite of their
tameness, unusually exciting, and he was suffering from a nervous
depression which robbed him of appetite as much as did his companion's
words. For instead of being merry, confidential, and companionable, Bob
scarcely opened his lips now without assuming the overbearing bullying
tone he had heard so often from his elders.

"Come, get on with your bragfuss," said Bob sharply. "We're going on
d'rectly, and you've got to pull."

"I can't eat much this morning," said Dexter apologetically; "and I'm
thirsty."

"Well, why don't yer drink!" said Bob, grinning, and pointing at the
river. "Here, I'll show you how."

He took off his cap, and placing his chest on the side of the boat,
leant over till his lips touched the clear flowing stream.

"Hah!" he said at last, rising and passing his hand across his lips;
"that's something like water, that is. Better than tea, or drinking
water out of a mug."

"Doesn't it taste fishy?" Dexter ventured to say.

"Fishy! Hark at him!" cried Bob mockingly. "You try."

Dexter's mouth felt hot and dry, and laying aside what he had not eaten
of his bread and cheese he followed his companion's example, and was
drawing in the cool sweet water, when he suddenly felt Bob's hand on the
back of his, neck, and before he could strug