It was their camp, anyway, and they were happy.
"I'm glad enough of one thing," murmured Dick as he rested, mopping his brow.
"I'm glad of several things I can think of," rejoined Darry.
"The thing I refer to," chuckled Prescott, "is Fred Ripley." "It never occurred to me to feel glad about Ripley," muttered Tom dryly.
"I mean, I'm glad that he has gone to Canada with his father this summer," Dick continued.

"We shan't have a lot of things happening all the time, as we did last summer.

Rip was a hoodoo to us last summer.

This year we know that he's too far away to be troublesome." "It will seem a bit strange, at first," assented Reade, "to return to our camp and not discover that, while we were away, Rip had been along and slashed the tent to ribbons, or committed some other atrocious act." "Let's not crow until we're out of the woods," suggested Darrin.
"Rip might come back from Canada, you know." "He's sure to, if the Canadians find out the kind of a chap that he is," Danny Grin declared solemnly.
"Come here, you fellows," summoned Dick, "and hold a council of war over the supplies, to decide what we'll have for supper." "I thought the steak was to be the main item," Tom rejoined.
"With no ice it won't keep until morning." "What do you want to eat with the steak ?" asked Dick briskly.
The council---of six---quickly decided on the items of the meal.
Harry, catching up two buckets, started to the nearest spring for water.

Dave, with the coffee-mill between his knees, started to grind.