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“Who’s going to try the fishing today?” asked Jack, as they were partaking of their bacon and egg breakfast, a supply of the hen fruit having been obtained on the previous day from a Canadian farmer, near whose place the little fleet of motor boats had stopped.

Scratch the chilled hen fruit and I’m with you.”

That was the sort of excursion I was rung into; so the bunch of us piles into the wagonette and starts for a fresh supply of hen fruit.

There was only nine hundred samples of hen fruit in town, and one store had a corner on them.

And there isn't anything I like better when camping out than plenty of hen fruit, together with the lacteal fluid from the cows.