Part 2 (1/2)

Fleet was the only boy in the party using a double-bladed paddle, but Fleet's canoe was twenty feet long, rather broad of beam, and capable of holding three persons. It was a much more formidable looking craft than those owned by the other boys. Fleet, however, had paddled the big canoe all his life, and the handling of the double blade was as easy for him as ”rolling off a log.”

Chot and Tom, too, were experts, but neither liked the double blade, preferring the lighter one, as well as a lighter craft.

In Fleet's canoe was stored most of the provisions, some cooking utensils and a small tent, intended to afford shelter during a storm, when the boys were in camp and sleep was necessary. Each boy carried as his individual luggage a suit case containing a dark business suit, a couple of extra s.h.i.+rts, collars, a pair of patent leather shoes, and other articles necessary to make a natty appearance if the occasion arose. Ordinarily they would need only their rowing clothes, which consisted of a soft s.h.i.+rt, a pair of old trousers and light-soled tan shoes. Each boy carried a sweater for use when the nights were cool, or when he became overheated before landing.

The breeze had entirely died away by the time the canoes were a mile up the river, and the boys paddled easily along, keeping abreast of Pod, so that if by chance, his canoe ”turned turtle,” they would be on hand to render a.s.sistance.

The little fellow evidently suspected their purpose, for he said:

”Don't worry about me. I can swim, can't I?”

”Guess you can,” said Chot, ”and a ducking won't hurt you, but we're going to stay right with you anyway.”

”I'm not going to upset. This is easy.”

”Don't brag,” said Fleet, as he pushed his paddle deep into the river and sent his big cruiser flying a length ahead, then slowed down till the other boys caught up with him. ”n.o.body ever went canoeing that didn't get upset, and you'll get yours sooner or later. Better in the old Hudson, too, than in the rapids of the St. Lawrence.”

”And that's no gentle dream,” said Tom, reverting to slang-a thing he seldom did.

”By the way, how long is it going to take us to reach the St Lawrence?”

asked Pod.

”Don't know,” said Chot. ”We've no way of calculating. In the first place, we don't know how long we'll be at the Creighton's; in the second place, we're not going to hurry. This is a vacation and we're going to take things easy-or at least, I am.”

”An easy time and plenty to eat-that's my motto,” said Fleet, and immediately relapsed into verse:

There was a young fellow from Winton Whose stomach he never was stintin'; He'd eat day or night When dark or when light, Oh, he was a regular spinton.

”A regular what?” cried Tom, as he stopped paddling for an instant and looked up in surprise.

”A 'spinton',” repeated Fleet, with a chuckle.

”What the d.i.c.kens is that?”

”Don't you know what a spinton is?” asked Fleet.

”No; never heard of it.”

”I'm surprised at your ignorance.”

”Well, suppose you enlighten us,” said Chot.

”Can't,” replied Fleet. ”Don't know what it is myself.”

”Then why did you use it?”

”Because it rhymed with Winton,” replied the fleshy lad, with a grin.

”By the way,” said Pod, ”speaking of jokes.”

”Now, who said anything about jokes?” Fleet demanded.