lared. "If the youngster can go
pie number five, he'll be champion of the camp."

Excitement ran high as Jimmy slowly finished the last crumbs of his
fourth pie, and the cook handed him a fifth. Would he take it, or would
the contest prove to be a draw?

CHAPTER XVII

THE BULLY GETS A DUCKING

"Our man doesn't have to eat another whole pie," protested Bob. "If he
just eats some of it he'll win, Mr. Judge."

"That's right," nodded the cook. "How about you, young feller? Are you
able to tackle it?"

"Sure thing," responded Jimmy. "Hand it over."

He forced himself to cut and eat a small piece, and when he had
finished, pandemonium broke loose. The judge declared him undisputed
champion of the camp, and he was caught up and elevated to broad
shoulders while an impromptu triumphal procession was organized that
circled the camp with much laughter and many jokes at the expense of the
defeated aspirants for the title.

After this was over, the boys held a little private jubilation of their
own in the little cabin where they were quartered with Mr. Fennington.
He had been away during the contest, but he returned shortly afterward,
and laughingly congratulated Jimmy on his newly won honors.

"How do you feel?" he inquired. "Do you think you could manage another
piece of pie? I'll see that you have a large piece if you think you
can."

"No, sir! I've had enough pie to last me for a good while to come,"
declared Jimmy positively. "I'll be ashamed to look a pie in the face.
For the next week or so I'll have to stick to my favorite doughnuts for
dessert."

"Well, you did nobly, Doughnuts, and I love you more than ever,"
declared Bob. "You were up against a field that anybody might be proud
to beat."

"And the best part of it, to me, is the feeling that our confidence in
Jimmy's eating powers was justified," declared Joe. "After all the
wonderful exhibitions he's given in the past, it would have been
terrible if he hadn't come up to scratch to-night."

"The way that fellow they call Jack started off, I never thought you had
a chance, Jimmy," confessed Herb.

"If he could have held that pace, I wouldn't have had a look-in,"
admitted Jimmy. "I figured he'd have to slow down pretty soon, though.
'Slow but sure' is my motto."

"How would you like to take a nice three-mile sprint now?" asked Herb
mischievously.

"Three mile nothing!" exclaimed Jimmy scornfully. "I couldn't run three
yards right now. I think