“Summers are rather deadly,” assented Steve.  “We go to the seashore, but the place is filled with swells, and about all they do is change their clothes, eat and sleep.  When you get ready for piracy, Perry, let me know, will you!  I’d like to sign-on.”

“Put me down, too,” said Joe.  “I’ve always had a—­um—­sneaking idea that I’d make a bully pirate.  I’m naturally bloodthirsty and cruel.  And I’ve got a mental list of folks who—­um—­I’d like to watch walk the plank!”

“Fellows of our ages have a rotten time of it, anyway,” Perry grumbled.  “We’re too old to play kids’ games and too young to do anything worth while.  What I’d like to do—­”

“Proceed, Sweet Youth,” Joe prompted after a moment.

“Well, I’d like to—­to start something!  I’d like to get away somewhere and do things.  I’m tired of loafing around in white flannels all day and keeping my hands clean.  And I’m tired of dabbing whitewash on my shoes!  Didn’t you fellows ever think that you’d like to get good and dirty and not have to care?  Wouldn’t you like to put on an old flannel 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.”

“That’s all right, but you chaps are just the same, only you won’t own up to it.”

“One of us will,” said Steve; “and does.”

“Make it two,” yawned Joe.  “Beneath this—­um—­this polished exterior there beats a heart—­I mean there flows the red blood of—­”

“Look here, fellows, why not?” asked Steve.

“Why not what?” asked Perry.

“Why not have adventures?  They say that all you have to do is look for them.”

“Don’t you believe it!  I’ve looked for them for years and I’ve never seen one yet.”  Perry swung his feet to the floor and sat up.