“I dun racken I’ll carry my hoss pistol after dis,” said Blumpo. “Da don’t cotch dis chile for to tar and feather him!”
A week later Jerry, Harry, and Blumpo started up the lake on a ten days’ outing.
They were in Harry’s largest row-boat, the one that had a sail, and carried with them a tent and a good stock of ammunition. Jerry and Harry were armed with guns, and Blumpo carried his “hoss pistol” and a rusty spear.
They were bound for Hermit Island, a wild but beautiful patch of land situated almost at the end of Otasco Lake. The island was so called because it was said by some that the place was inhabited by an old hermit who lived in a cave and never showed himself to visitors.
Some did not believe this story, for try as hard as they could, they had never been able to locate the strange creature, who was said to have a white beard to his waist, and white hair equally long.
The day that the trio started away was a fine one, and the boys were in excellent spirits.
“I trust we have no more squalls,” remarked Harry, as they glided along, the sail set and the oars out.
“No storm to-day,” returned Jerry. “We are going to have at least three or four days of fine weather.”
“Say, I wondah if I could shoot a bar wid dis yere gun,” put in Blumpo, as he held up his pistol.
“You might if you threw the pistol at the bear when you pulled the trigger,” laughed Jerry. “Sure as you are born, Blumpo, that pistol will go to pieces if you try to fire it.”