“Cal’late I can fetch ye anything you want,” answered Simpson promptly. “And, considerin’ what you’ve done for me, I’ll furnish truck at a rock-bottom figger; won’t charge ye a cent more for the stuff than we can get by haulin’ it into town.” “That sure is generous,” laughed Grant, though the farmer’s son could not comprehend why he seemed amused. “We brought only a few vegetables, and they are already practically used up. We need potatoes, onions and beans.” “We’ve got some rippin’ good green peas,” said Simpson. “I guess some of them wouldn’t go bad.” “Bring us a mess.” “And beans—don’t yeou forget the beans,” cautioned Crane. “By hokey! I’m hungry for good baked beans.” “We haven’t a pot to bake them in,” reminded Stone. But Simpson immediately assured them that he felt certain he could supply them with a beanpot, which they might return when they were through with it. “Leave it to me,” he said; “I’ll fetch what you want, and mebbe I’ll be able to get round with the stuff tonight. So long.” After pushing out from the shore he paused and turned, apparently struck by a thought. “Say,” he grinned, “jest you fellers go ahead and fish the brook over yonder all you blame please. I don’t cal’late nobody will bother ye no more.” “Much obliged,” laughed Grant. CHAPTER XXII. PIPER GROWS SECRETIVE. Dressed only in underclothes while their other garments were drying, the boys really suffered no discomfort whatever. They amused themselves in various ways, and in camp the least ingenious person may keep himself occupied and entertained without much trouble. For Crane and Stone the account of the adventure of the others upon the mysterious island proved deeply interesting, and much time was spent in discussion and speculation. It was observed that of the trio who had visited the island Piper had the least to say about it, being much absorbed in meditation. “Look at Sleuthy,” whispered Sile, nudging Springer. “His analytical mind is at work, and I cal’late he’s tryin’ to form a few deductions.” As if he had caught the remark, Piper looked up and gave Crane a hard stare that was doubtless intended to be piercing. “Next time I visit that island,” he declared, “I’m going to take the shotgun along, and it will be loaded, too.” Springer whooped derisively. “Oh, yes, next tut-time you visit the island you’ll tut-take the shotgun!” “What,” questioned Grant, “would you have done with a shotgun if you’d had one with you today, Pipe?” “He’d dropped it when he ran,” asserted Springer. Piper promptly turned on Phil. “If I were in your place, I’d be ashamed to mention running. Like Crane, pursued by hornets, you demonstrated that the wings of Mercury or the seven league boots would be of little aid to you in covering ground when you’re thoroughly frightened.”