Hervey Willetts was sitting on that board shelf. If Chocolate Drop had taken the prop away Hervey Willetts would have gone into the lake. But that was just what he wanted. He was just sitting there waiting for Chocolate Drop to let down that shutter. Then he could say that he didn’t go into the lake after five o’clock because that’s against the rule. He could say he was sitting on shore and Chocolate Drop dumped him into the lake. That way he could get a swim in the evening. He didn’t say so, but I know that fellow. He would get a swim accidentally on purpose. He was sitting there with nothing on but an old pair of khaki trousers and a khaki shirt and that crazy hat he always wears with the brim all gone and the crown all full of holes and campaign buttons and things. Gee whiz, you can always tell him by that hat. I could see him sitting there as we rowed across the lake from the trail side—that’s the way we always go. I shouted, “Look who’s here.” He called back, “I’m looking; it’s just as unpleasant for me as it is for you.” “The pleasure is mine,” I told him. “I suppose you think you’re going to get a swim after hours without getting called for it.” “That shows your evil mind,” he said. “I was watching the sun go down.” “Yes, and waiting to go down yourself,” I told him. “I’m waiting to see the scout go down. I always hated geography but there’s one thing I like about Massachusetts and that is that you’re away from there. I suppose you’ve got some new stunts this summer.” “Hurry up and land,” he said, “and get through with your suppers. Supper was over an hour ago.” He said that because he knew that Chocolate Drop wouldn’t let down that shutter till the last supper was over and everything was cleared up in Cooking Shack. Then he would be dumped into the lake accidentally. _Christopher_, but the trustees never seemed to get wise to Hervey Willetts. He looked awful funny sitting up there on that kind of a shelf all ready to be, you know, preciprocated or precipitated or whatever you call it, I should worry. All of a sudden there was a voice from the Mammoth Cave in the other rowboat. “Let’s foil him,” said Pee-wee. “Just for fun let’s keep on eating for a couple of hours till he’s called to camp-fire. That’ll keep Chocolate Drop in the shack.” “Listen to the famine talking,” I said. “He can even hold a heavy shutter up an hour or so with a half a dozen pieces of pie,” said Warde Hollister. “You should worry about our suppers,” I told him. “We always take our time eating. We expect to spend a couple of hours at the board and you can spend a couple of hours on _that_ board.” “Maybe even we’ll eat four desserts,” Pee-wee shouted. “We’ve got to unpack our baggage first,” I called, “and then wash up and go and say hello to Uncle Jeb and in about half an hour we’ll get around to eating.” “After that we don’t know how long we’ll take,” Pee-wee yelled. “Sure, a scout is thorough,” shouted Westy from my boat.