Chub darted a glance at Harry’s disturbed countenance and shook his head. “Nothing that you should know about, Roy. It’s a novel. When you’re a few years older--” But Roy threatened him with the contents of his tin cup, and Chub ceased. After supper was over and the things cleaned up they went back to the boat and climbed to the upper deck. The breeze, which had mitigated the heat during the day, had died down, and it was cooler here than on shore. It was dark by the time they settled down, and Dick brought up a half-dozen Japanese lanterns and strung them along the awning rods. When the candles were lighted they threw quite a radiance over the scene. “It’s just like a party,” said Harry. “Let’s play games!” “Anything but ‘going to Jerusalem,’” said Chub, drowsily, from where he was stretched out in his chair. “I don’t feel that I am able to walk that far to-night.” “We’ll play ‘fish, flesh, or fowl,’” said Harry, “and I’m ‘it.’” “You always are ‘it,’” said Chub gallantly. “Papa, you draw your chair over that way more,” said Harry, ignoring Chub’s compliment. “We must sit in a circle. Come, Chub.” “I’ll try,” Chub murmured. “It sounds a bit difficult, though, sitting in a circle. How’s this, Harry?” “Oh, Chub, don’t be so silly,” Harry laughed. “Put your feet down and behave. Now I’ll begin. The first one that doesn’t answer correctly must take my place.” The deck was soon ringing with laughter, for, of course, some funny things happened. As when Harry, suddenly poising in front of Chub, exclaimed: “Fowl! One, two, three--” “_What?_” exclaimed Chub, with a jump. “Four, five, six--” “Er--er--” “Seven, eight, nine--” “Bullfrog!” “You’re ‘it’!” cried Harry. “A bullfrog isn’t a fowl.” Chub strove to temporize. “Did you say fowl? Are you sure?” “Go ahead, Chub, she caught you,” said Roy “Be game!” “That isn’t fair,” grumbled Chub. “Of course a bullfrog isn’t exactly a fowl, but everybody knows that frog legs taste just exactly like chicken, and so--” “Get up, get up, you lazy duffer!” cried Dick. Chub got up and fixed Dick with a malevolent scowl. Then he walked over to him and remarked conversationally: “Fish! One, two, three, four, seven, ten!” “Here! You didn’t count right!” objected Dick. “Here, now!” said Chub, contemptuously. “That’s right, try to get out of it!” But Dick got up and immediately caught the doctor, who gazed blankly at him while he counted the fateful ten. Harry clapped her hands delightedly. “Papa’s ‘it’!” she cried. “Now we’ll have some fun!” The doctor got up and surveyed the four laughing faces anxiously. “Let me see, now; what is it I say?” They explained it to him, and he made for Harry. “I’m a fish!” he cried. “One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven, twelve thirteen, fourteen--” He might have been counting yet had not they stopped him, for Harry had gone off into a gale of laughter and was quite incapable of words.