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detail, but little Harold got only one. It looks as if twits have a higher
standing than nuts around here.
Mike was just getting himself back under control.  Oh, Rudy, don t make me
laugh! Please don t make me laugh when the Warden comes!
All eyes were drawn to the camp director s cottage at the edge of the baseball
field. The front door opened and Mr. Warden emerged, smartly dressed in a
white tennis outfit. He strutted briskly to the small platform that Frank had
set up for him, mounted it and reached for the microphone.
 Look, murmured Rudy,  you can see half the camp through his legs.
Mike held his head. Surviving this assembly without receiving more work detail
wasn t going to be easy.
 Good morning, boys, said Mr. Warden sternly. It was obvious to all that the
director was furious.  You all know why I ve called you here this morning. I m
referring to the outrageous events of last night. I have no doubt that most of
you were involved.
 Some more than others, said Rudy, staring at Harold Greene.
 Rudy- whispered Mike warningly. Chip was glaring in their direction.
 Now, boys, said the director,  this is Camp Al-gonkian Island. It was
founded thirty-one years ago by my grandfather, Elias Warden, and in all that
time, not once before last night has any wanton destruction occurred. Much
damage was caused by your foolishness, damage that must be repaired at the
camp s expense. Since you have proved that you cannot be trusted on your own,
in future, patrols will be posted during counsellors meetings. Meanwhile, you
will all take turns assisting the boys of Cabin 13 in repairing their unit.
That takes priority over everything.
He paused to let his words sink in.  It would benefit campers, and
counsellors, he added, glaring at Chip,  if we all learned to practise a
little self-control.
 And one more thing a two-man sailboat is missing from the dock. There can be
only two reasons for this, both of them unacceptable to me. Either the boat
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was improperly tied and drifted away, or someone has taken it without
permission. Whoever is responsible had better own up soon.
 Your counsellors will tell you what hours you will be working on Cabin 13.
See that the events of last night are not repeated. Good day.
 Gee, he s crabby, remarked Rudy.
* * *
Groups of campers spent the morning clearing out the wreckage of Cabin 13,
salvaging bedding and whatever reusable lumber they could find. Shortly before
noon two professional carpenters arrived by launch from the mainland.
 Miller! Chip shouted at one point,  You get in there and help!
 I don t salvage, was Rudy s reply.
 The heck you don t!
So Rudy bent his back the same as everyone else.
 Sentenced to one month hard labour, Rudy recited, hauling a mattress out to
air on the grass,  the Noble Nuts are forced to toil endlessly in the hot sun
for the satisfaction of the dreaded clone taskmasters.
 This is definitely slave labour! grunted Mike, beating the dust out of a
pillow.
 Come on, you guys! shouted Chip.  Hurry it up! Keep moving! He walked up to
Rudy.  Do you know anything about that missing sailboat, Miller?
 I don t sail, said Rudy.
 I m not surprised to hear that, said Chip.  All right, you guys, he
bellowed,  break for lunch! Wash station first!
 I don t know about you, said Rudy as he and Mike entered the wash station,
 but they ve seen the last of me on that job site. My parents sent me to camp
to have fun.
Mike splashed water onto his sweaty face.  How are you going to get out of
it?
 I m going to get poisoned from lunch and sleep it off in the infirmary, Rudy
decided.  With my radio. Miraculously, it survived the disaster.
 They found my guitar, said Mike forlornly.  Smashed.
 Alcatraz will probably pay for the repairs, said Rudy.  After all, it got
smashed in their cabin which was destroyed by their campers. And the finishing
touch was delivered by their clone. Hey, he went on,  I wonder if anyone s
fixed our mess table. We may have to eat off the floor.
 That ll be okay for you, said Mike.  It ll be easier to get poisoned off the
floor. I m going to have to work this afternoon.
 Why don t you get poisoned too? suggested Rudy.  I m sure there s plenty of
poison to go around.
Mike shook his head.  I d better not. They d get suspicious if there were two
of us. You go ahead.
The boys arrived in the mess hall to find that table 13 had been replaced by a
long sheet of plywood resting on two sawhorses. Because the sawhorses were of
slightly different sizes, the new table had a pronounced slope.
Mike put down his tray and watched helplessly as his orange rolled away
towards the end of the table. It hit the edge of Chip s tray, bounced into the
air and landed with a resounding plop! in the counsellor s soup.
 Nice shot, commented Rudy dryly.  You gave him a real snootful.
 Cut the comedy, snapped Chip, wiping the soup off his face.  Ail right, you
guys, hurry up. We ve got a job to do this afternoon.
 And don t eat anything round, advised Rudy. He tasted his tomato soup.  Hey,
this tastes spoiled!
 It s not spoiled, said Chip.
 Well, you ought to know. You re covered in it. Rudy finished his soup,
making sour faces all the while. Then he turned to his hot dog and took a
bite.  Ugh! Where do they store the meat? Out in the sun?
 There s nothing wrong with those hot dogs, Miller, said Chip warningly.
 Eat.
Rudy ate, and when the last bite was gone he doubled over on the bench and
gasped,  You made me eat and now I m sick!
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