So the morning passed with frequent rests, for Mr. Garrabrant knew better than utterly to weary his command in the beginning. They were, after all, out for sport; and it would have been an unwise move on his part to have sickened the tenderfeet scouts before they had had a fair chance to get hardened to it.
Just before noon the boy in the bow of the leading boat gave a yell.
"What is it?" asked the scout master.
"I just had a squint at a body of water, sir; and I think it must have been a lake," replied Jack Armitage, who was in the boat with the Wolf Patrol, Ginger working one of the oars in the other craft.
"That must be the first lake, Jupiter they call it," Mr. Garrabrant went on.
"Hurrah! that means a rest, and lunch, fellows!" cried Lil Artha, who had been resting after his turn at rowing.
"Don't crow too soon," barked Toby, mysteriously. "The worst is yet to come. Remember that these two lakes are joined by Paradise Creek. I've heard that stream is worse than the river here to pull against."
"That's where you're mistaken, Toby," remarked Elmer. "I talked with a lumberman, and also a sportsman who comes up here every fall to shoot wild ducks on the lake they call Solitude. Both of them assured me that once we got to this point our troubles would be over. So cheer up, my hearties, the pulling will be a picnic after this."
Then they passed out from the head of the romantic Sweetwater. The lake was a pretty little sheet of water, with shores that, as a rule, were wooded; though in several places it looked as though farms ran down to the water's edge.
The boys soon clamored to get ashore and stretch their weary legs; nor was Mr. Garrabrant in the least averse to such a change himself. It is always inducive to cramp to sit in a boat several hours.