Part 11 (1/2)
”You certainly made a good job of it,” said Bert, looking critically over the boathouse.
”It's all in the design, of course; the nailing together is the easiest part.”
”You might think so,” said Hal, ”but it's hard to drive a nail in round cedar. But we thought it so interesting, we didn't mind the trouble,” finished Hal, as he prepared to untie his canoe.
”What a pretty boat!” exclaimed Bert, in real admiration.
The canoe was green and brown, the body being colored like bark, while inside, the lining was of pale green. The name, _Dorothy_, shone in rustic letters just above the water edge.
”And you called it _Dorothy_,” Bert remarked.
”Yes, she's the liveliest girl I know, and a good friend of mine all summer,” said Hal. ”There are some boys down the avenue, but they don't know as much about good times as Dorothy does. Why, she can swim, row, paddle, climb trees, and goes in for almost any sport that's on. Last week she swam so far in the sun she couldn't touch an oar or paddle for days, her arms were so blistered. But she didn't go around with her hands in a m.u.f.f at that. Dorothy's all right,”
finished Hal.
Bert liked to hear his cousin complimented, especially when he had such admiration himself for the girl who never pouted, and he knew that the tribute did not in any way take from Dorothy's other good quality, that of being a refined and cultured girl.
”Girls don't have to be babies to be ladylike,” added Bert. ”Nan always plays ball with me, and can skate and all that. She's not afraid of a s...o...b..ll, either.”
”Well, I'm all alone,” said Hal. ”Haven't even got a first cousin.
We've been coming down here since I was a youngster, so that's why Dorothy seems like my sister. We used to make mud pies together.”
The boys were in the canoe now, and each took a paddle. The water was so smooth that the paddles merely patted it, like ”brus.h.i.+ng a cat's back,” Bert said, and soon the little bark was gliding along down the lake, in and out of the turns, until the ”narrows” were reached.
”Here's where we get our pond lilies,” said Hal.
”Oh, let's get some!” exclaimed Bert. ”Mother is so fond of them.”
It was not difficult to gather the beautiful blooms, that nested so cosily on the cool waters, too fond of their cradle to ever want to creep, or walk upon their slender green limbs. They just rocked there, with every tiny ripple of the water, and only woke up to see the warm sunlight bleaching their dainty, yellow heads.
”Aren't they fragrant?” said Bert, as he put one after the other into the bottom of the canoe.
”There's nothing like them,” declared Hal. ”Some people like roses best, but give me the pretty pond lilies,” he finished.
The morning pa.s.sed quickly, for there was so much to see around the lake. Wild ducks tried to find out how near they could go to the water without touching it, and occasionally one would splash in, by accident.
”What large birds there are around the sea,” Bert remarked. ”I suppose they have to be big and strong to stand long trips without food when the waves are very rough and they can hardly see fish.”
”Yes, and they have such fine plumage,” said Hal. ”I've seen birds around here just like those in museums, all colors, and with all kinds of feathers--Birds of Paradise, I guess they call them.”
”Do you ever go shooting?”
”No, not in summer time,” replied Hal. ”But sometimes father and I take a run down here about Thanksgiving. That's the time for seaside sport. Why, last year we fished with rakes; just raked the fish up in piles--'frosties,' they call them.”
”That must be fun,” reflected Bert.
”Maybe you could come this year,” continued Hal. ”We might make up a party, if you have school vacation for a week. We could camp out in our house, and get our meals at the hotel.”
”That would be fine!” exclaimed Bert. ”Maybe Uncle William would come, and perhaps my Cousin Harry, from Meadow Brook. He loves that sort of sport. By the way, we expect him down for a few days; perhaps next week.”
”Good!” cried Hal. ”The boat carnival is on next week. I'm sure he would enjoy that.”