Canoe Boys and Campfires Part 2

On the following morning the Jolly Rovers departed by the seven o'clock train, and a ride of an hour and a half through the beautiful c.u.mberland Valley brought them to their destination. The canoes were found to be in good condition, and after a brief delay the services of a farmer and his team were engaged.

The inhabitants of the little village gazed with wonder and curiosity on the strange procession as it pa.s.sed along the straggling street. The boxes and the gayly painted canoes completely filled the bed of the wagon. Nugget was perched on the seat beside the farmer, resplendent in his brown uniform. He held the pennant in his right hand, and waved it in the breeze from time to time.

The others marched with military precision behind the wagon. Randy bore his gun on his shoulder, and Ned and Clay carried paddles. All three wore knickerbockers and Norfolk jackets, and their faces were protected from the sun by canvas helmets with large visors.

For two miles and a half the road wound through a hilly, open country.

Then it dipped into a wooded ravine, turned aside to follow a barely perceptible path through a heavy forest, and finally ended at a fording on the edge of the Conodoguinet.

"Here you are, boys," cried the farmer, as he pulled up his horses within a few feet of the water. "I reckon you couldn't have a better day for your start. The creek's in prime condition, too."

Nugget leaped down from the wagon and joined his companions. For a moment or two the boys quite forgot the work that had to be done.

With exclamations of delight they gazed on the narrow blue channel as it poured swiftly around a bend in the woods above and vanished from sight beneath the crooked arches of a mossy stone bridge a quarter of a mile below. The opposite sh.o.r.e was rocky and lined with pine trees, and over their tops could be seen against the horizon the jagged crest line of the Kittatinny Mountains.

"Come on now and get to work," said Ned finally. "My arms are itching to take hold of a paddle."

"So are mine," exclaimed Randy. "Let's be off as soon as possible."

With the farmer's aid the canoes were speedily taken from the wagon and placed on the gra.s.s close to the water's edge. They were built on somewhat different lines, but all were serviceable and well adapted for speed. The framework and the canvas were both light, and the average weight was about eighty pounds, unloaded. The canoes were aptly named.

The Water Sprite belonged to Randy. It was light and graceful, and owing to its flat bottom drew very little water.

Clay owned the Neptune, a broad decked craft, built somewhat on the order of the primitive Rob Roy. The Imp was narrow and rakish, with a low c.o.c.kpit and a high bow and stern. Nugget regarded it with the affection that one feels for a favorite dog.

The Pioneer, in which Ned had cruised down the Susquehanna, was a heavy but neatly proportioned craft, and showed traces of wear and tear. They all contained s.p.a.cious hatches fore and aft.

The boxes were unpacked, and under Ned's supervision the contents were judiciously distributed and stowed away in the different canoes. Then the seats and back rests were arranged in the c.o.c.kpits, and the canoes were gently shoved into the water.

"Do you fellows expect to reach the river in them flimsy things?"

exclaimed the farmer when he saw the four canoes swinging lightly with the current. "I reckon you'll repent it afore you get many miles from here."

"Not much danger," replied Ned laughingly. "A good canvas canoe will stand as much as a rowboat any time. There are no obstructions in the way, are there?"

"I dunno," replied the farmer. "It's a wild and lonesome bit of country that this creek runs through, and I've heard tell of bad water an'

whirlpools. The channel winds worse than any serpent. Why, it must be all of two hundred miles to the Big River."

"I hope you are right there," said Ned heartily, as he climbed out on his canoe and fixed the pennant securely on the bow. "Take your seats now," he added to the boys. "Everything's ready for the start."

They obeyed with a rush and a scramble, and Nugget very nearly got a ducking at the outset by thoughtlessly trying to stand up in the c.o.c.kpit.

Good wishes and farewells were exchanged with the friendly farmer. Then four double paddles dipped the water and rose flashing with silvery drops, four canoes skimmed gracefully out on the swift blue surface of the creek. The Jolly Rovers were off at last.

When they were twenty or thirty yards down stream they turned and waved their paddles to the farmer, who was still standing in open-mouthed wonder beside the empty packing cases. Then a cross current, setting toward the right sh.o.r.e, whisked them out of sight of the spot.

Randy struck up the chorus of a popular boating song, and the others joined in with eager voices. Their jubilant spirits had to find a vent somewhere.

What a glorious thing it was to be drifting haphazard with the rippling current, free as the very air, and the birds that were singing sweetly in the bushes! The narrow vista of the creek brought vividly to mind the pleasures that lay in wait along the twisted miles of its channel--the gamy ba.s.s lurking in the deep, shady holes, the snipe and woodc.o.c.k feeding among the reeds, the tent and campfire with the savory odor of coffee and crisp bacon.

That less pleasant things than these were destined to fall to the lot of the Jolly Rovers ere they should paddle from the mouth of the creek into the broad Susquehanna, occurred to none, else a shadow had marred their bright antic.i.p.ations at the start.

Side by side the four canoes darted under the middle arch of the old stone bridge, and then Ned took the lead, for it was not seemly that the pennant should be anywhere but in front while the club was on a cruise.

The current soon became sluggish, and the channel wound between thick woods, where the trees almost met overhead. The boys drifted along leisurely, stopping now and then to explore some tempting nook.

At one place, where the water was deep and a great rock jutted from the sh.o.r.e, they put their fishing rods together, and procured worms by pulling up great clods of gra.s.s. In half an hour they caught a beautiful string of sunfish and chubs.

About the middle of the afternoon Ned went up to a farmhouse that was visible among the hills and came back with a pail of b.u.t.ter, a loaf of bread and two apple pies. The boys had already lunched on crackers. So they concluded to keep these supplies for supper.

They paddled slowly on, crossing from sh.o.r.e to sh.o.r.e as something new took their attention. A sudden shadow, caused by the sun dipping beneath the hill top, reminded them that evening was at hand. The banks were closely scanned for a camping place, and an admirable one was soon found--a grove of big trees, through which filtered a tiny stream.

The boys landed and dragged the canoes partly out on the gra.s.sy slope.

"The tent is the first thing," said Ned, as he lifted the big roll of canvas from the c.o.c.kpit of the Pioneer, where it had served as an admirable seat.

Randy unlashed the poles from the fore deck of his canoe, and joined them together.

This was a clever invention of Ned's. Each pole was in two parts, and could be put together like the joints of a fishing rod. The ferrule of the ridge pole, which had to endure the most pressure, was longer and stouter than the others. The poles were very light but strong, and the entire six pieces made no perceptible burden when lashed on a canoe.

Five minutes sufficed to raise the tent, and drive the iron stakes at the four corners. Then what articles would likely be needed were taken from the canoes and carried inside.

Ned hunted up two large stones, and placed them a foot apart. He laid four iron rods across them, and proceeded to build a fire underneath.

"That's the best cooking arrangement ever invented," he said. "We used it altogether on the Susquehanna last summer. If I prepare the supper you fellows must do the rest. Clay, you clean those fish. Bring me the salt, pepper and lard, Randy, and then peel some potatoes."

"Can I a.s.sist in any way?" drawled Nugget, as he emerged from behind the tent, where he had been slyly brushing off his clothes and shoes.

"Why, certainly," replied Clay. "Clean these fish for me, that's a good fellow."

Nugget rapidly opened and closed his mouth two or three times.

"I--I--really--I'm afraid--" he stammered.

"Let him alone, Clay," cried Ned sharply. "Clean the fish yourself.

Suppose you set the table, Nugget," he added kindly. "Arrange the plates and knives and forks on some gra.s.sy level place, I mean."

While his companions were performing the duties a.s.signed to them, Ned went down to the stream and filled the coffee pot.

"This is spring water, as cold as ice," he exclaimed in surprise. "The source can't be far away."

The sun was now out of sight, and it grew darker and darker as the preparations for supper went on. Randy finished his own work, and helped Nugget arrange the dishes on an outspread square strip of canvas. He lit one of the lanterns and placed it in the center, and a few moments later Ned made the welcome announcement that supper was ready.

The coffee pot and the pans of fried fish and potatoes were gingerly carried over, and then the boys seated themselves at the four corners, crossing their legs under them, tailor fashion.

The ruddy flames mangled with the yellow glow of the lantern, dancing on the bright tinware, and casting the shadow of the tent far into the forest. The brook rippled softly through the ravine, and away up the creek the melancholy cry of a whippoorwill was heard.

"This is what I call glorious," said Ned, as he opened a can of condensed milk and pa.s.sed it around. "Nothing equals a life in the open air, and no other sport has the same fascination."

"You're right there," stuttered Randy, with his mouth full, "I'd like to live this way half the year round."

"It beats New York," said Nugget decidedly, as he raised a pint cup of coffee to his lips. The next instant he uttered a howl of anguish, and made a frantic grab at the pail of cold water.