They then went on their way and were soon over into another lake.
"Do you think you can stand another carry?" asked Mr. Waterman, turning to the boys.
"Sure," said Bob.
"Ab-so-lute-el-y," said Bill.
"All right," replied Pud.
"Why so modest?" asked Mr. Anderson.
"I find it hard work," said Pud. "I not only have to carry my load but about twenty-five pounds of superfluous flesh. I guess I can stand it if they can. I'm here to get in shape, so go ahead."
"We can stay here just as well and go on to the other lake in the morning. It is only mid-afternoon now, though," said Mr. Waterman, "and we could make the next lake easily. I plan to stay there all day to-morrow."
"Don't mind me," said Pud.
So they went ahead. Bob carried the canoe and a duffle bag full of grub, while Mr. Waterman kept piling on stuff until he had at least one hundred and fifty pounds on his back. With a tump line over his forehead, he moved ahead, apparently little concerned about the weight of his load. Mr. Anderson and the guides were also similarly loaded. Pud elected to carry his bag and the portion of the grub. Jack kept on piling up the stuff with a merry wink to Bob. Finally they moved off. The carry proved to be about a mile and a quarter long. They had to go up a fairly steep hill first. All did very well, though Pud was puffing and blowing like a porpoise and sweating like a foundryman when they stopped at the top of the hill for a short rest. They were soon on their way again. Jack stayed behind with Pud and the others were soon lost to view. Bob and Mr. Waterman walked ahead at a good pace and were soon at the lake, which opened out before them most invitingly. They were all in swimming when at last Jack and Pud hove in sight. Pud was certainty the picture of fatigue.