It seemed as though there might be plenty of fun and chance for adventure on and about Storm Island, but these five fellows, who had established their camp here, had made a false step at the very outset of their vacation.
"If we had some more fellows here," Kirby said as he stopped another of Pence's hot ones, Pudge having swung at it with a ferocious grunt, "we might at least get up a decent game of two-old-cat. But Joe's struck; says he won't chase any more balls. And Pudge and Ben want to bat all the time."
Idleness was beginning to wear on the party of campers. Horace Pence was satisfied to exercise his pitching arm a little every day. They had plenty to eat, and nobody seemed to care much for fishing. If idleness can be condoned, it is not in camp--that is one sure thing. Something doing all the time is the only way to spend a pleasant vacation. One kind of work offsets another. If the mind goes stale, rest it by vigorously using the body; if the latter is overworked, nothing so quickly and easily aids in resting it as mental exercise.
These boys in camp on Storm Island were using neither their minds nor their muscles sufficiently. They were not happy. The days already began to seem too long, although they had not been in camp a week. They were becoming more and more quarrelsome. Instead of enjoying their vacation, they were likely to be bored to distinction very shortly.
Pudge threw away his bat. Horace came in from the mound and seated himself with the others upon the turf under a spreading tree.
"We ought to do something," complained Kirby.
"You'll have a chance shortly," drawled Horace Pence, squinting skyward. "A home run for the tents. It's going to rain."
"Those are thunder-heads all right," Ben admitted.
"Let's go over to t'other side of the island. Can see the storm roll up. She's coming from seaward," proposed Kirby.
"I've seen a thunder storm before," stated Ben, without moving.
"Never on Storm Island," snapped Kirby. He was fretful from lack of occupation. But it was not until Horace stood up that Harry moved. "What, ho?" he cried.
"Good idea," said the languid Horace. "I never saw a tempest at sea."
"Then you're going to improve your mind?" asked Pudge.
"My mind doesn't need improving," announced the fat youth, lolling back again and pulling the cap over his eyes.