“We’ve cut out all that!” Alex broke in. “We can’t have any fun if we keep our minds bent up into exclamation points all the time. Look!” he continued, changing the subject, “there’s a place where we ought to be able to bring the Rambler right up to the shore.”
The place at which the boy pointed did look inviting, and so Clay headed the boat in that direction. There was a break in the high bank of the stream, and it looked as if there might be a pool inside which would make a desirable harbor.
When they came to the broken bank they saw that a small rivulet entered the Columbia there, and that its waters, in some period of flood, undoubtedly, had carried a quantity of soil away, leaving a pond west of the river line—a pond which seemed to be deep enough for the Rambler to float in. Also this pond was almost shut in from the river, the scrubby trees growing there filling in between the two bodies of water except where the channel cut the natural levee.
“This is a beauty!” Alex cried, as the Rambler felt her way through the opening. “We might hide away from a fleet of police boats here!”
Captain Joe seemed to agree perfectly with this expressed opinion of the locality, for no sooner was the Rambler within reach of the shore than he sprang out and began investigating the situation. Teddy climbed to the railing of the deck and would have followed the dog only for the fact that he was tied to the prow by a long rope.
Alex was off the deck almost as soon as the dog, and the two engaged in a wrestling match on the grass, a contest in which the boy came off an easy victor on account of the dog not being posted on tricks of knocking an opponent’s feet out from under him. This over, the dog started off into the forest, looking back as if to inquire why Alex was not coming along with him for a romp in the jungles.
“I believe I will take a turn in the forest while you look over the rapids,” Alex said, his eyes following the dog longingly. “We can have a run for half an hour, and then get back in time for the start. Anyway, why not remain here all night? That would be fine.”
Before Clay or Case could offer objections, the boy and the dog were out of sight in the thicket. Their brush-tramping footsteps were heard for a time, and then there were no indications that they had ever entered the woods at all. Clay smiled as he looked at Case, following the course the two had taken with his eyes.
“After we have a look at the rapids,” Clay promised, “we’ll go hunting in there. Unless I am much mistaken, we’ll find deer not far away from this valley. Venison would make a hit with me just now.”
“That sounds good to me,” Case answered. “We ought to get fresh meat before long, for our bacon is giving out. Now for the rapids!”