There were still a few hours of daylight left, and as soon as the dishes had been washed and packed away in the locker, the boys took their bows and went ashore to stretch their legs and shoot at “rovers”. Arthur succeeded in bringing down a kingfisher after half an hour’s hard stalking, and his companions shot a squirrel apiece for breakfast. Just at dusk they met at the boat, which was hauled out into the stream and anchored. The jack-lamp was lighted and hung upon one of the poles that supported the tent, the rubber mattress was inflated, and the three friends lounged around and talked until they began to grow sleepy. Then the blankets and pillows were brought to light, one side of the tent was buttoned down to the gunwale, the other being left up to admit the air, and the boys laid down to sleep, trusting to Jim to give them notice of the approach of danger. He gave them notice before three hours had passed away.
About midnight the spaniel, which for half an hour or more had been very restless, suddenly jumped to his feet and set up a frightful yelping. If some one had been pounding him he could not have been in greater distress. The boys started up in alarm to find the sky overcast with black clouds, the wind coming down the river in strong and fitful gusts and the anchor dragging. There was a storm coming up, it promised to be a severe one, too, but it did not find the young voyagers unprepared to meet it. The forward end of the tent was promptly rolled up, a spare anchor dropped into the water, and the skiff was again brought to a stand-still. By that time the rain was falling in sheets, but the boys paid no sort of attention to it. They buttoned the tent down all around and went to sleep again, fully satisfied with the precautions they had taken. Jim was satisfied too, although he thought it necessary to slumber lightly. Whenever a strong gust of wind came roaring down the river, he would turn his head on one side and look critically at the anchor ropes, which led through ring-bolts in the bow, and were made fast to cleats on the forward locker; and having made sure that the ground tackle was doing its full duty, he would go to sleep again.
The night passed without further incident, the morning dawned clear and bright, and after a breakfast of fried perch and broiled squirrel, the boys resumed their journey toward Indian Lake. On the evening of the fifth day after leaving Mount Airy, they found themselves within a short distance of their destination; but instead of going on to the lake they turned into a creek which connected the river with a lonely pond that lay deep in the forest. They did not intend to go to Indian Lake until they stood in need of supplies. There were big hotels and a crowd of guests there, and they saw enough of them at home. To quote from Joe Wayring, their object was to get away from every body and be lazy.
The sun went down long before they turned into the creek, and night was coming on; but they pushed ahead in order to reach a favorite anchorage in the mouth of a little brook, whose waters could be relied on to furnish them with a breakfast of trout. They laid out all their strength on the oars and the skiff flew swiftly and noiselessly up the stream, its movements being governed by Arthur Hastings, who looked over his shoulder now and then to take his bearings. After they had been speeding along for half an hour, he began keeping a sharp lookout for the brook; and once when he turned around he thought he saw a moving object in the creek a short distance away. He looked again, and a thrill of exultation and excitement ran all through him.
“Joe,” said he, in a scarcely audible whisper, “there’s your canvas canoe, as sure as I’m a foot high.”
“Where?” exclaimed Joe and Roy, turning quickly about on their seats.
In reply Arthur pointed silently up the creek. His companions looked, and then they too became excited. There was a canoe in advance of them sure enough, and dark as it was, they instantly recognized it as the one Matt Coyle had stolen from Joe Wayring.
There was somebody in it, and he was plying his double paddle as if he were in a great hurry. He did not appear to know that there was any one besides himself in the creek, for he never once looked behind him.
“It isn’t big enough for Matt, and so it must be one of his boys,” whispered Roy.
“Boy or man, he shall not go much further with that canoe.” said Joe in a resolute tone. “That’s my boat and I’m going to have it, if you fellows will stand by me.”