Canoe Boys and Campfires Part 11

"Down below here is just the place you want then," said Randy. "A big gravel bar. The sun shines on it beautifully."

This statement brought a smile even to Nugget's face, and without delay the boys proceeded down the creek.

As it was impossible to get any wetter they waded, pushing the canoes ahead of them. The gravel bar was twenty yards below, in mid-channel, and sure enough the first rays of the sun fell full upon it.

The canoes were speedily denuded of everything they held, and the gravel was soon strewn with water soaked bread, crackers, blankets, fishing rods, writing paper, and envelopes. The other provisions, being incased in jars, were uninjured; and so also were the extra clothes, thanks to the oiled canvas bags in which they were wrapped.

The boys quickly made the change, and stretched out their wet garments to dry. The canoes were placed bottom up to drain, and after satisfying himself that the Water Sprite was damaged beyond immediate repair, Ned suggested that Randy should point out the place he had discovered.

The latter was only too willing, and when the boys had followed his instructions by rolling their trousers above their knees, he led them through the shallow water toward the left sh.o.r.e.

As they advanced nothing was visible but the low bank, densely covered with bushes and young timber. Randy was several yards in advance, and all at once he stooped and disappeared. The others followed his example, and when they had waded with bent backs under a heavy screen of bushes, they were amazed to find themselves in the mouth of a good sized stream.

The water was knee deep, and flowed gently over a bed of sand and pebbles. For a distance of sixty or seventy feet inland the stream was three or four yards wide; then came a deep circular pool fed by a brawling waterfall that dashed impetuously down a mossy incline of rocks. On all sides were inviting clumps of bushes, and slender trees bending over their weight of foliage, while from branch to branch swung foxgrape vines.

Near the head of the pool was a gra.s.sy open spot shaded by half a dozen monster sh.e.l.lbark trees--a perfect little Eden. In fact the whole scene was so entrancing to these lads, who well knew how to appreciate Nature's most charming moods, that they stood still with the cool water surging against their knees, to look and listen.

The sunlight filtered obliquely through the leaves, gleaming here and there in the dark thickets like stray gold, and shimmering on the eddies of the pool. The air was fragrant with the scent of wild flowers, and from every direction came the music of birds and the busy chattering of squirrels.

"I knew you fellows would fall in love with the place," said Randy.

"Just think of spending two or three days here--or maybe a week. There's nothing to prevent it. Under those sh.e.l.lbark trees is a grand place for a tent, and here is water enough to float fifty canoes. The bushes completely hide the entrance, and when we are all fixed snug I'll defy Bug Batters or any one else to find us in a month. What do you say, Ned?

Do you think it's necessary now to go farther down the creek?"

Ned drew a long breath.

"I think this is the most beautiful spot I ever saw," he replied. "I'll stay here a week if the rest are willing."

The rest _were_ willing--emphatically so. Clay immediately began to indulge in visions of trout fishing farther up the stream, which must have its source in the mountains. Nugget declared it was a good place to rest, while Randy expressed an opinion that game was plentiful in the vicinity.

Having waded to the edge of the pool, where the water deepened abruptly, the boys returned as they had come, and were soon back on the gravel bar. They were too hungry to go to the trouble of making a fire, so they breakfasted on damp crackers and dried beef, and found them very palatable, too.

Then, as the sun had already dried the things, the canoes were loaded and pushed up the mouth of the stream. The boys took good care to remove every trace of their presence from the bar, and to deftly rearrange the screen of bushes after pa.s.sing through.

The tent was soon staked under the sh.e.l.lbark trees, and the canoes were carried out beside it. The Jolly Rovers now felt as safe as though they were fifty miles down the creek. Being pretty well exhausted by the interruption of the previous night and by their long paddle, they made pillows out of their blankets, and went to sleep on the gra.s.sy floor of the tent.

But it is not an easy matter to turn day into night, and so the boys found it. Ned awoke about noon, and threw the flap open so that the sun could stream into the tent--as much of it at least as came through the thick foliage. It was sufficient to rouse Randy and Nugget. Clay was missing, but as his fishing rod had also disappeared, no alarm was felt over this fact.

Of course, dinner immediately suggested itself, so Ned started to make the fire, while Randy inspected the supplies to see what was available.

"Damp crackers and cold meat are about all we can count on," he announced dismally. "There are only a half a dozen potatoes here. You might boil some oatmeal, though."

"We must get along with what we have," replied Ned. "This afternoon some of us must make a foraging expedition. We can't be very far from a farmhouse."

The fire was soon blazing merrily, and just as Ned placed the coffee pot on the bars, a cheery whistle rang through the woods, and Clay appeared at the head of the pool.

"See what you lazy fellows have missed," he exclaimed, holding up a string of speckled brook trout. "I caught all those in the last two hours, and tramped more than a mile up stream to get them."

The boys were delighted at this unexpected addition to their dinner, and the spotted beauties were soon ready for the frying pan. Hunger made a piquant sauce, and the crackers, meat and fish vanished in short order.

"I intend to let you fellows wash the dishes this time," said Ned, when the meal was concluded. "I'm going after supplies. We certainly need them badly enough. Did you see any signs of a farmhouse when you were up the stream, Clay?"

"No indeed. The woods are thick in every direction, and I have no doubt they stretch clear to the mountains. It's awfully wild and lonesome along the stream."

"No use in trying that direction then," replied Ned. "I think I'll go down the creek in my canoe."

"Let me go with you," said Randy. "You may have a big load to carry back you know."

Ned hesitated an instant, and then gave his consent. He really preferred to be alone, but he saw that Randy was very sorry for his recent ill conduct, and wanted to make what amends he could.

Clay loaned Randy his canoe, and promised to repair the Water Sprite during the latter's absence. Then the foraging expedition paddled out into the creek, equipped with tin pails and canvas sacks.

Clay and Nugget were at no loss to find occupation. It required a good half hour to wash and dry the dishes, and after that a big stack of firewood was piled up. Then the Water Sprite was placed across two logs, and Clay proceeded to make the needed repairs. Having screwed the keel firmly in place, he thrust cotton under its whole length with his knife blade, and then put on a plentiful coating of white lead.

"There!" he exclaimed, as he surveyed his own work with satisfaction.

"That canoe won't leak a drop in the morning. I say, Nugget, let's go fishing a little while. It's only five o'clock, and the boys won't be back for an hour or two yet."

Nothing could have pleased Nugget more. He made the proviso, however, that Randy's gun should be taken along.

"I don't know what you're afraid of," said Clay; "but I'll humor you anyhow."

He shouldered the weapon, first looking to see that it was loaded, and started up the stream. Nugget trudged behind with the two fishing rods.

Half a mile from camp the boys stopped by a deep pool that presented a very tempting aspect. The bushes and trees were dense all around it.

"This is where I caught my first fish this morning," whispered Clay, as he put a nice fat worm on the hook and dropped it in the water.

Almost instantly the line tightened, and the slender rod bent. Clay gave a quick pull, and something shiny whizzed through the air, landing with a dull flop some yards behind the boys.

"That was a big fellow," exclaimed Clay. "It flew clear off the hook.

Get it for me, Nugget, will you? I want to catch another."

Nugget obligingly dropped the hook he was baiting, and crawled on hands and knees into the thicket.

A few seconds later he burst out, yelling wildly for help, while a crackling of bushes behind him told plainly that something or someone was in close pursuit.

CHAPTER X

A TRAMP ACROSS COUNTRY

Nugget dashed by Clay without stopping, and crossed the stream, close to the lower end of the pool, in two or three frantic leaps.

Clay was frightened himself, but observing that the rustling noise in the thicket had ceased, he boldly stood his ground, taking the precaution, however, to exchange his fishing rod for the gun.

"What's wrong?" he demanded, turning warily toward Nugget, who was on the opposite side of the stream with one hand clasping the low boughs of 3 pine tree.