They had decided to do no night traveling, as they were on uncertain waters, and there was no special need for haste. So, as the afternoon waned they began looking for a good river town where they could tie up for the night. They passed through one called Birchville about five o’clock, and learning there was a good restaurant not far from the river they decided to get supper there, rather than cook aboard the Scud again. They would, however, sleep in the cabin bunks, as there were a number of comfortable beds arranged.
“And I think I’ll just stop at the post-office and send mother back a card,” Jerry decided. “We’ll probably get some mail from home, at Mason Junction, which we’ll reach in the morning.”
The boys had asked their folks to write to them at this place, and there was a letter for each one of them except Andy when they arrived about ten o’clock the next morning. Andy, coming away in such a hurry, and in such a surreptitious manner, had not been able to give any mail directions.
“But your folks are all right,” said Bob, reading his own letter. “My mother says your mother called on her the other day, Andy, and they spoke of you.”
“That’s good,” said the small chap. “As long as they’re all right I won’t worry.”
“I never knew him to worry anyhow,” observed Jerry, who was deep in his own correspondence. There was not much news from Cresville. Mrs. Hopkins wrote that the men were still taking out large quantities of clay from the swamp.
“But, whatever you do, Jerry,” she penned, “don’t run into trouble on account of the swamp land. It isn’t worth it.”
“Well, I’m not going to give it up without a struggle,” Jerry declared. “If the professor comes over to our side after all we may be able to beat those fellows yet.”
“Well, we’ll be on Lake Mogan to-morrow morning,” announced the tall lad as they tied up, the second night on the river. “We’re at Ralston now, and an hour’s travel after breakfast will bring us to the lake.”
“Is it much of a lake?” Bob wanted to know.