They were off at nine o’clock the next morning, Jeffrey and Poke in one canoe and Jim and Gil and Hope in another. The basket of luncheon reposed between Jeffrey and Poke, the latter declaring that it was needed as ballast. Their canoe was not a very good one and was the smaller of the two, and Poke had only secured it, from two juniors who were in possession of it when he arrived at the boat-house, by his moving eloquence. It was a fine autumn morning, warm and sunny, and it seemed that the whole school had elected to spend the forenoon on the river. For the first quarter of a mile the stream was alive with canoes and skiffs. Then the throng dwindled and soon the voyagers had the river to themselves. Poke was making hard work of paddling, although all that Jeffrey required of him was “push,” as he put it. “Just stick your blade[194] in, Poke, and push it back. I’ll look after the steering.”
“That’s all very well,” answered Poke, “but I keep skinning my knuckles on the side of the canoe.”
“Then put your left hand higher up on the paddle,” Jeffrey laughed. “And when you get tired, change over to the other side.”
“I’m not comfortable,” Poke grumbled presently. “This thing you call a seat is as hard as a rock. Why don’t they have cushions in canoes?”
“Some do,” Jeffrey replied. “When I get mine I’ll have a cushion especially for you, Poke, with your initials on it.”
“Just as long as you don’t ask me to sit on it, all right. I say, Gil, how are you getting on?”
“Pretty well, thank you. How are you?”
“Oh, fine! I guess I’m doing most of the work from the feeling of my arms. Say, wouldn’t it be great if the silly old river would run the other way for awhile?”
“I wish there was another paddle,” said Hope disconsolately. “I could help if there were.”
“You’d upset the canoe if you tried to paddle[195] from the middle,” said Jim. “How much further is it, Gil?”
“About a mile, I guess. Getting tired?”
“N-no; a little. It surely gets your muscles, doesn’t it?”
“It surely does!” agreed Gil. “It’s getting muscles I didn’t know I had!”
“Keep farther away,” warned Poke. “I need lots of room when I paddle, and you make me nervous when you come so close. Get out or I’ll splash you, Gil!”
“Don’t you try it, son! And for goodness’ sake don’t wriggle around so in your seat. If you upset we’ll lose the luncheon. I knew we oughtn’t to have let you take it.”
“Isn’t it most time for luncheon now?” asked Poke. “We might just rest a while and have a sandwich, eh?”
“Get out! It isn’t ten o’clock yet,” Gil jeered.
“Isn’t it?” asked his chum pathetically. “My arms feel as though it was twelve!”
“Rest awhile,” said Jeffrey from the stern. “I can work it alone here. The current isn’t so hard now.”
“No, I’ll keep at it until I fall in a swoon,” answered Poke. “One arm’s numb clear to the[196] elbow now and doesn’t hurt so much. I dare say I’ll soon be beyond all pain.”
“Let’s paddle in to the bank,” Jim suggested, “and take a rest. I’m just about all in, fellows.”
So they turned the canoes to where the branches of the trees overhung a little stretch of pebbly beach and ran the bows of the craft ashore. Poke laid his dripping paddle across his knees, murmured “Good night!” and apparently sank into slumber. They were all, excepting Jeffrey and Hope, glad of the respite, for paddling against the current, even for those accustomed to it, is no light task. Hope wanted to get out and “explore,” but her brother hard-heartedly commanded her to sit still and not overturn the canoe.
“Isn’t the river perfectly beautiful!” she exclaimed.
There was a deep sigh from Poke. “It is indeed paradise,” he murmured. Presently he raised his head and looked about him, passing a hand across his damp forehead. “Where am I?” he asked dazedly. “Ah, I remember all! I thought ’twas but a dream!”
“Well, suppose we dream some more,” laughed Jeffrey. “After we get to Riverbend[197] we can rest as long as we want to. You fellows ready?”
“Yes, come on,” answered Jim. “Push her off, Gil.”
“Aren’t we going to have our luncheon now?” asked Poke in injured surprise. “Only the thought of food has kept me alive thus far. Let’s every one have a sandwich, fellows, just one miserable little sandwich.”
“Oh, come on, Poke,” said Gil. “Get a move on. Jeff wants to buy his canoe some time to-day.”
“Well, just a half a sandwich,” pleaded Poke. “Honest to goodness, fellows, I’m faint with hunger and fatigue.”
“Shall I give him one?” asked Jeffrey laughingly.
“Not a bite!” replied Gil. “He wouldn’t do another stroke of work if you fed him now. All he wants to do after he has eaten is lie down and go to sleep.”
“Gee, I want to do that now!” ejaculated Poke, raising his paddle wearily and pushing the bow of the canoe from the sand. “When I fall in a dead faint in the bottom of the canoe you fellows will be sorry you treated me so meanly. Jeff, will you push the basket this[198] way a little farther, please? I just want a smell of it to encourage me!”
A half-mile farther up the stream they began to encounter other crafts. Riverbend was a veritable canoeing center and on fair days, and especially on Saturdays and holidays, hundreds of persons were to be found on the river thereabouts. As early as it was, the stream was pretty well populated as they drew near their destination. There were red canoes and blue canoes and white canoes and green canoes, and canoes of half a dozen other colors or tints. Many of them were really luxurious, with mahogany seats and embroidered cushions, while one craft that they passed, occupied by a man and a woman, was floating lazily down the stream with a graphophone playing in the bow. That was too much for Poke. He stopped paddling and stared at it most impolitely with open mouth. Finally he shook his head.
“It’s no use,” he said discouragedly. “I can’t do any more. My mind is wandering. I’m seeing things and hearing music!”
“Well, we’re just about there, I guess,” laughed Jeffrey. “There’s a boat-house ahead of us now, although I don’t know that it’s the one we want.”
[199]
“I will essay a few more faltering strokes then,” replied Poke. “Shall you have one of those music affairs in your canoe, Jeff, or are you going to have a chur............