CHAPTER VI.—MOURNING AN EMPTY KODAK.
The “private palace car,” as the boys called the platform car which had carried the Rambler out of Port Arthur, was being shunted from the train to a siding near the river bank, and some one was pulling like mad at Alex’s arm. He sat up, rubbing his eyes, and struck out at the hand which was annoying him. A chuckle came from the side of his bunk, and he saw Case standing there with a most exasperating grin on his face.
“Get up!” the latter cried. “We’ll be afloat on the Columbia in less than no time. Say, kiddo, but you’ve been sleeping some! Get up!”
“Where is the Columbia?” asked Alex hardly awake yet.
“Why,” laughed Case, “I forgot to take it in last night and so it froze stiff on the roof. The boys are thawing it out with a flat iron. Where did you think it was, silly?”
“You’re all right,” Alex grunted, dressing as fast as his hands could move, “but you have foolish spells. Which way is the Columbia from here? I’m in a hurry to get a look at it. My, but there’s a heap of fun coming to us now. Good old river, eh, Case?”
“You know it,” replied the other. “Now, wait a minute,” he added, as Alex made a move toward the door. “I came in here to talk with you.”
“You near broke my arm,” complained Alex. “What is it about? Can’t you wait until I get a peek at the river? What’s the hurry, anyway?”
Case drew the boy down on the edge of the bunk and held him there a minute until he quit struggling. Outside the boys were standing at the prow of the Rambler, watching the car carrying them closer to the dock, if such a primitive contrivance might be called a dock, where the motor boat was to be launched. Glancing out through the glass panel of the door, Alex saw that Gran, the stranger who had come to them so strangely the night before, was standing in a dejected attitude before Clay, who appeared to be talking earnestly.
“What’s Clay scolding Gran about?” he asked, then. “Looks like he was giving him a good one. Let me go out and see about it.”