"Say, a fellow could easily imagine that he was away off in some wilderness, if it wasn't for the lights along the shore in places," suggested the skipper of the little Humming Bird, as they moved majestically along.
"Or the rumble of that freight train pulling uphill over yonder," said Frank.
"Oh! that could be called the roar of distant surf on the beach. It sounds like it, all right," remarked his chum.
"That's a fact, it does. Makes me think of the last time I was spending a summer on the beach. Careful now, Lanky; there's Rattail Island ahead of us. Which channel are you going to take now?"
"Same as before. You wouldn't find a ripple of a zephyr on the east side, and we'd have to paddle past with our feet," answered the skipper, heading his gliding craft toward the point in question.
"I can see a light on the shore of the island. Yes, it's a fire, all right. That must be Bill cooking his fish supper," remarked Frank, as they swung around the point of the island, and began to move between it and the main shore.
"Bill—Bill what? Hang the luck if I ever had a thing worry me like that seems to do," grumbled Lanky.
"Hello! at it again, are you? I believe that nonsense is going to keep you from enjoying a decent sleep to-night. Better try and curb that weakness, old chap. It will get you into no end of trouble, mentally," warned his comrade; at the same time secretly chuckling, for he knew Lanky could not change his nature any more than the leopard might his spots.
"Yes, there he is, cooking over the blazing fire. Bill may have been a tramp, but it strikes me I could give him a few pointers how best to make a fire when there's any cooking to be done. Give me the red embers, and the steady fierce heat. Are you going to hail him, Frank?"
"He's shading his hand to look out this way, already. I reckon he hears the click of our steel on the ice, for you know how sound carries when the river is frozen," and then raising his voice, Frank called: "Hello! there, Bill; getting grub ready?"