Canoe Boys and Campfires | Page 5

club,
and a couple of days before the start Randy's sister Mary presented the
Jolly Rovers with a pennant of crimson and gold satin. The proper
place for it was at the bow of the commodore's canoe, so it was yielded
to Ned.
With the exception of Randy's single barreled shotgun, no firearms

were to be taken along. The boys demurred to this at first, but were
finally won over by Ned's sensible arguments. Canoeists cruising
through a peaceful country seldom need weapons of defense.
CHAPTER III
THE CRUISE BEGINS
The first day of July fell on Thursday, and that afternoon the boxes
containing the dishes, provisions and other traps, and the four canoes
carefully wrapped in coffee sacking, were shipped to Oakville by
freight.
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
Cumberland 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 passed 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 shore 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 grass 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 cockpit 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 spacious 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 cockpits, 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