t, all right," declared Lester.

"Thanks to your good arm and the old harpoon," added Bill.

"We have with us to-day, gentlemen," said Teddy, assuming the air and
tone of a professional introducer, "two renowned throwers. Indeed, I may
say three.

"This gentleman at the tiller, Mr. Lester Lee, throws the harpoon. This
other at the sheet, Mr. Frederic Rushton, throws the baseball. This
idler at my right, Mr. William Garwood, throws the lasso. I admit,
gentlemen, with deep regret, that of all this illustrious company I am
the only one who doesn't throw something."

"Oh yes you do," put in Bill quickly.

"What?"

"You throw the bull," said Bill.

CHAPTER XVII

A PLEASANT SURPRISE

The other boys roared, and for a moment Teddy was disconcerted. But he
quickly recovered his balance.

"I suppose," he retorted, frowning severely at the culprit, "that this
low-brow means to intimate that I am a Spanish athlete. I should be
deeply pained to know that any one who has been under the refining
influence of Rally Hall should indulge in the practice of slang. What
would our dear Doctor Rally say if he heard one of his pupils----"

But the question remained forever unanswered, for just then a piece of
pork that Bill had picked up from the deck whizzed past the orator's
face, and, in the quick and undignified duck he made, Teddy lost the
thread of his discourse.

"Suppose you two cut out the fooling and get down to business," grinned
Lester. "Fred and I are the only ones doing anything, and it's time you
loafers got busy. Bring out the grub and let's have something to eat."

"That's always in order, like a motion to adjourn," acquiesced Teddy.
"Come along, Bill, and we'll show these fellows how to cook."

Teddy and Bill went down into the little cuddy, got out the tiny oil
stove, and the odors of sizzling bacon and steaming coffee soon made
Lester and Fred sniff the air hungrily.

"I didn't know how hungry I was till just now," said the latter.

"I didn't either," returned Lester. "I was so worked up over that tussle
with the shark that I didn't have time to think of anything else. But
now I'm hungry enough to eat nails."

"If that's the way you refer to the meal we're getting up, you can't
have any," threatened Teddy. "We may not be hotel chefs, but we'll not
stand for having our eats compared to nails, will we, Bill?"

"Not by a jugful!" answered Bill, as he scrambled some eggs in the bacon
grease.

"T