shirt and a pair of khaki trousers and some 'sneakers' and--and roll in
the mud?"

"Elemental stuff," murmured Joe. "He's been reading Jack London."

"Well, that's the way I feel, lots of times," said Perry defiantly. "I'm
tired of being clean and white, and I'm tired of dinner jackets, and I'm
sick to death of hotel porches! Gee, a healthy chap never was intended
to lead the life of a white poodle with a pink ribbon around his neck!
Me for some rough-stuff!"

"You're dead right, too," agreed Steve. "That kind of thing is all right
for Joe, of course. Joe's a natural-born 'fusser.' He's never happier
than when he's dolled up in a sport-shirt and a lavender scarf and
toasting marshmallows. But--"

"Is that so?" inquired Joe with deep sarcasm. "If I was half the
'fusser' you are--"

"What I want," interrupted Perry, warming to his theme, "is adventure!
I'd like to hunt big game, or discover the North Pole--"

"You're a year or two late," murmured Joe.

"--or dig for hidden treasure!"

"You should--um--change your course of reading," advised Joe. "Too much
Roosevelt and Peary and Stevenson is your trouble. Read the classics for
awhile--or the Patty Books."