“Oh,” said Kit, “sometimes I have bad dreams an’ sometimes I have good dreams; an’ sometimes after the bad dreams I have the best luck, an’ sometimes after the good dreams I have the worst luck. So I’ve come to depend more on what I do when I’m awake than on what I do when I’m asleep.”
“Anybody can dream, but it takes a man to do,” spoke the German, Mr. Preuss.
“Well, I sha’n’t govern our operations by dreams, or we’re liable not to get anywhere,” avowed the lieutenant. “When we come back from the islands we’ll laugh at Basil and Baptiste.”
“Oh, we go too,” said both. But they did not brighten up much.
Only a short distance beyond the place of the camp the river channels were lost in a great mud-flat covered by an inch or so of water. Now everybody stripped to the skin, to haul the boat to the lake, beyond. At the sight of these strange white creatures the long-legged plover with which the flat swarmed circled and screamed. The mud was about the texture of paint, and when stirred up smelled disgustingly, as if composed of decaying insects. Speedily the crew were smeared with the black liquid to the thighs. Behind them they left a long, discolored, greasy trail.
The unpleasant mud extended for a mile, when suddenly they came to a little ridge, hard and distinct, rising underfoot. Here the mud stopped; beyond the little ridge, which acted as a divide, was firm sandy bottom, and very salt water—the bottom and the water of the great lake.
Now with a cheer they hastily dressed, clambered aboard, and launched forth—Oliver pumping with the bellows.
The nearest island seemed to be a low one, rising to a flat-top instead of to a regular peak. For this was the boat directed.
The frail rubber boat rode easily the swells of the light-green, clear water. The pasted seams held well; the inflated sides and ends lifted her high. But in a short time she looked queer indeed, as if riding a snow-storm; for when the swells broke against her they sprayed salt which turned white in the drying air. It covered her and her crew, and of Lieutenant Frémont, with his full beard, it made a hoary old man.