“I wish we three could go,” mused Allan.
“Would you take the Snorter or the Arabella?”
“The Arabella, of course. She’s quicker, and I really think she’s safer. Would your mother object to your going?”
“Not with you,” promptly replied McConnell. “She thinks you’re pretty safe.”
“Does she? I must try to deserve that. Anyway, I try not to take any risks when I’m off with a cat-boat. To tell you the truth, I shan’t be willing to take the Arabella unless I can have a fellow as big as Owen along. After all, a boat like the Arabella is safer in every way than one of these little boats.”
The Arabella was only twenty feet long, but she was large among the little fleet in which she moored at Kantry’s dock.
“My idea,” pursued Allan, “is to start Friday afternoon and make up the river as far as we can before dark, then camp inshore.”
“To camp over night?” exclaimed McConnell. “That’s good. I haven’t camped since last summer, and that didn’t count. We were right near some houses. Then what would you do next day?”
“Next day I think we might boat a good deal, make pictures, fish some if we wanted to, and get home by dark. As the tide is setting up in the afternoon now, I suppose it would be best to get down into our latitude by the middle of the day, so that if the wind weakened we should have a better chance of getting in.”
“And we’ll carry lots of grub,” suggested McConnell.