The boys, lying on shore, in the shade, saw their recent guest paddle slowly down stream. They watched him until he disappeared around a bend.
“Well, that’s another link in the queer puzzle for us to solve,” spoke Ned. “By the way, Frank, did you ever make any inquiries of Judge Benton about whether there was any prospect of a new trolley line going through?”
“Yes, and he said he didn’t know of any. I told him about the men, but he said they might be surveyors dividing the land up into building lots. Mr. Bender is anxious to improve his property, he said.”
They broke camp and reached Woodport about five o’clock, got the salt and one or two other things they happened to think might come in handy, and resumed their journey up the river. Woodport was a small place and they soon passed it, coming to a long stretch of water that flowed between densely wooded banks on either side.
“Good place to camp,” spoke Ned. “No one to bother us. There’s no fun camping close to a town.”
“Not unless you run out of salt or something like that,” replied Bart.
“Oh, well, one should get accustomed to doing without salt, or other things he can’t have,” Ned rejoined. “I believe I could get used to anything.”
“Good way to feel,” spoke Fenn. “I wish I could.”
“It takes strength of character,” Ned added.
“Don’t get preachy,” put in Frank.