Brushing off the baggage, the boys, followed by Jeff, made their way to Mose Mumbleton’s boathouse. The old storekeeper was already on hand and had brought forth three rowboats with six pairs of oars.
“I went over each one of the boats carefully,” said the storekeeper. “You’ll find ’em in apple-pie condition.”
“All right. And don’t forget that we’ll be back to-morrow for our regular supplies,” answered Gif. “Come on, fellows. It’s getting late and it’ll be dark before we reach camp.”
Gif was right about the darkness, because the sun was already sinking behind the forest to the westward, casting long shadows across the bosom of Big Bear Lake.
“Wonder if we’ll see any bears on our way up,” came from Andy, as he took his seat in one of the boats.
“Sure! we’ll see a dozen of them,” returned his twin, with a grin. “They’ll all be lined up on the shore bidding us welcome.”
“Don’t forget, Jeff, you’re to row one of the boats,” cried Gif gayly.
“Does you want me to row that boat all alone?” questioned the colored man doubtfully.
“Why, of course! You’re to row the boat and you are to pull the other two boats, too.”
“What! Me pull the boat all alone and tow the two other boats too?” questioned Jeff, in consternation. “I can’t do it, nohow! No man could!”