“Did you bring a little knittin’ for us to do?” asked Davy Cooke sarcastically.
“Can we go wadin’ up on the ford?” sneered Colly Craighead.
“We’re goin’ swimmin’ up above the ford,” answered Connie, unmoved by these gibes, “as soon as we cool off. Then we’ll see if we can’t coax a few bass into the fryin’ pan. I got a seine in my haversack. We’ll get some minnies at the ford.” (By “minnies” Connie meant minnows.)
The stop at the whirlpool was not long. After hurling all loose wood into the rushing gorge, the boys hurried to the ford and the near-by clearing in the woods. Here, as at the cave, there were tables and seats and remnants of many outings.
Running along the shore to this point, several boys made out a peculiar object in the river, high up on the riffle and near the ford. The object was dark and round. That it was not a rock, every boy knew. So unusual was it in appearance that there was a general determination to wade out and investigate.
“Looks like somethin’ that’s drifted down the river an’ got stuck,” suggested Wart.
“Like a barrel,” was Leader Connie’s verdict.
“If it’s a barrel,” exclaimed Sammy Addington, “I wonder if it’s anything in it?”
The squad had reached the ford by this time. Haversacks were dropped and Art, Wart and Colly, pulling off their shoes and stockings, rushed into the river. Connie, a little more dignified, walked down the bank again, followed by most of the patrol.