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Standish, Burt L., [pseud.]

"Frank Merriwell's Reward"

He is a man of
most excellent judgment!"
"How is your taste, Mr. Hodge?" Inza calmly queried. "Do you think you
can eat fish?"
"I could eat a whale. I'll gobble up this fish-basket pretty soon if you
don't hurry and serve something."
"Very well. Fish-baskets on toast. There are fish in a box back there.
And there are crackers in this box. And over there I found some pretty
nice canned goods."
Merriwell smiled. Inza's manner was like a break of sunshine.
"Your talk makes me simply ravenous."
That they were ravenous they showed when they fell to on the supper
which Inza prepared as best she could from the materials available.
There were many things that might have been improved. They might have
gone out on the deck, for one thing, but the wet fog had come down
again, with a chill that went to the bones--a chill that was simply
horrible to Frank and Bart in the damp condition in which their clothing
still remained.
The fishermen did not seem to mind the fog, however, but walked the deck
and smoked, garbed in oilskins and sou'westers. They talked, too, by
signaling to each other with their hands. Merry, Hodge, and Inza sat up
until a late hour, going over and over again all the points of the day's
experience, with the many conjectures and unanswerable questions which
grew out of it.


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