Frank Merriwell nodded his approval, and, more than ever, he felt that Fred Forest was built of the proper material to make a success in life.
“Fellows,” said Merriwell, “I believe we will make a mistake if we do not accept Forest’s offer. We may never have another opportunity to see what the life of a river driver is like.”
“That’s right,” chimed in Hodge. “Let’s drift down the river with the drive.”
“It’s too much trouble,” grumbled Bruce.
“Yaw!” said Hans; “und I might drownt dot rifer in.”
“It will be a pleasant excursion,” declared Merriwell, quickly. “The weather, is all anybody could ask, and we shall not suffer anything from exposure. I am for going. What do you say, Diamond?”
“I will go.”
“I thought we had found enough excitement to last us a while,” muttered Bruce, in an unsatisfied manner. “I feel like getting back on board the White Wings.”
“Well,” said Frank, “you can take a train and go down to Bangor that way. We’ll join you there.”
“I won’t do that,” exploded Browning. “I’ll hang by the party. If the rest decide to go down the river on a lumber raft, count me in.”