THE JOURNEY AND THE STORM
“
Now I’ve got a notion,” said Rob, one morning not long after they had finished their new barabbara, “that if we were asked about this big island where we are living we couldn’t tell very much regarding it. We’ve only been over a little strip of country around here. I don’t suppose we’ve ever been more than five or six miles from camp yet, even when we climbed highest in the mountains beyond the creek. Yet we can see over thirty miles of country from here. I’d sort of like to have a trip up one of those other valleys.” He pointed a hand to the farther shore of the bay which lay before their gaze, level and calm as a mirror.
“That’s what I’ve thought more than once, too,” said Jesse. “Why not make an exploring expedition over there?”
“We couldn’t do it and get back in time for supper,” demurred John.
“No,” smiled Rob, “but we could have several suppers over there. Why not go across and camp out a night or two, and just rough it a little bit? You can see that there are pine woods on the mountains over there, and wherever there is pine it is always comfortable camping. We could take some grub along, of course, and our rifles.”
“How’d we sleep?” asked Jesse. “It has a way of raining in this country every once in awhile.”
“Well,” said Rob, “we could sit under a tree if we had to. I don’t suppose we could make a bark shelter, and we have nothing that would do for a tent; but we have our kamelinkas, and the blanket we made out of the sea-parrot breasts. We’d get along somehow. What do you say, Skookie?”
Skookie grinned, understanding what was on foot. “All light—all light!” he said.