"I don't care. I won't stand any nonsense from him," replied his brother, a handsome young fellow, athletic, but slightly smaller than the other. Just what he meant by this remark was best explained when Benjamin Ellison, strolling lazily down to the shore, paused in the process of devouring a huge piece of molasses cake and said, in a sneering tone: "My, Johnnie, don't you and Jim look fine though, with city chaps? What'll Uncle Jim say when I tell him--" He didn't get much further, for a canoe shot in to shore, and from the bow of it sprang John Ellison. He seized his cousin by the shoulder. "You will tell tales, will you?" he cried. "Let me alone," replied the other, striving to shake off John Ellison's grasp, but failing. Then he added, as the other canoes came in to shore and the boys stepped out of them. "Can't you take a joke?" "No, not when you've done the same kind of a thing before," exclaimed John Ellison. "Come on, fellows, in with him." Ready for any kind of a rough joke, several of the canoeists laid hands on the unfortunate Benjamin. "Most too many against one," remarked Henry Burns, quietly. "Better let him go." "No, he's got to be ducked," insisted John Ellison, whose anger was aroused. "Well, only a little one," assented Harvey, grinning good-naturedly. So they held the luckless youth heels over head and plunged his head beneath the surface up to his coat-collar. He was sputtering wrathfully as they lifted him out again. "Going to tell on us?" cried John Ellison. Benjamin Ellison glared at his cousin, doubtfully. "Once more," said John Ellison; and they put the victim's head under again. He wasn't hurt and his clothes were still dry; but he was whining, and he begged for mercy after the second ducking. "I won't tell," he said. "Honest?" "Honest Injun!" They let him go, and he departed hastily up through the field. "Tell, will he?" queried Harvey, as Benjamin departed. "Guess not," replied John Ellison. "He's got enough. He'd like to, though. He don't like you city fellows any better than father does. He hasn't got anything against you, either. He's too lazy to paddle. Come on, Jim, let's follow him up. Well be on hand to-morrow, if there's no trouble." The brothers took up their canoe and left the party. "They're all right, those Ellison chaps," said Harvey; "all except Benny. He's no good. Come on, fellows, let's lock up, and no walking in to town, remember. Running's good for the wind. Coming along, Tim?" "No, I'm going to sleep in the cabin," replied Tim Reardon, "and see the start in the morning." "Guess I will, too," said Allan Harding. So the two remained, while the troop of canoeists set off soon after, on the run back to Benton. The following morning, the first of a double holiday, came in bright and clear. Little Tim and his companion were early astir, and cooking a mess of oatmeal from the cabin's scanty stores over a cracked sheet iron stove.