“You would think we were going away for a month,” laughed Owen.
“Well,” said Allan, “there are a good many preparations we have to make just because we are going for such a short time. We want to enjoy every bit of it when we do go.”
And it certainly was with this determination that the boys made sail on Friday afternoon.
“It’s good we are not old salts,” remarked Owen, as the sail filled, and the Arabella slid into the open river, “as the whole crew would mutiny over our starting on Friday.”
“Somebody told me,” said McConnell, pulling at the sheet, “that Friday is a lucky day now.”
“It’s the best we have, anyhow,” said Allan, his hand on the tiller. “I think any day is a lucky day when you can get away like this with a bright sky and plenty to eat on board, and plenty of ammunition in your cameras.”
“By the way,” said Owen, “I must wrap up those cameras; we might forget it.”
They had carried along a large waterproof blanket in which to wrap the cameras, in case the Arabella shipped too much spray, and (on Mr. Wincher’s advice) in which to wrap them at night, when the dampness of the river might injure the plates and the film rolls.
“We shan’t take any pictures until to-morrow, anyway,” said Allan.
“And suppose it should rain?” remarked McConnell.