“You haven’t got any government license!” laughed Alex.
“No,” said the old Captain, “I’m not an ignorant Indian. I can read and write, and so I can’t get a government license, but I’ll tell you what I can do. I can take this boat down the Lachine without getting a drop of water on the deck.”
The Captain was a little bit inclined to tell what he had done and what he could do, but his stories were all truthful and interesting, so the boys rather enjoyed them, and the captain enjoyed talking.
“You needn’t think we’re going to fly through the air on this trip,” Jule said winking at the Captain. “We’re going to take about two days to get down to the Lachine. We’ll loaf along the river to-morrow, making about one hundred miles, tie up for the night, and reach Lachine in the afternoon of the day after. What do you think of that for a program, boys?” he added, turning to Clay.
“That’s the way I figured it out,” Clay answered. “There is no use in being in a hurry. We’ve got all the time there is.”
Every person on the boat, except perhaps the dog and the bear, slept soundly that night. There was no wind, and the little bay they were in protected them from the wash of the steamers. When they awoke in the morning the sun was rising round and red out of the river.
That day was another one long to be remembered by every member of the Rambler party. They drifted, using the motors just enough to give headway, fished in the clear water, and told stories of old days on the South Branch—days long to be remembered by them all.
That night partook of the character of the last one so far as sleep and rest were concerned. The boat lay at a little pier not far from a rural settlement. Early in the evening villagers came down attracted by the clamor of the motors but soon returned to their homes.
It was on that evening that Alex made his famous attempt to cook a river fish a la Indian. There was something the matter with the fish, or with the hot stones, or with the soil! At any rate, the white bulldog and the bear cub got the supper the boy had sweated over for an hour or more.
Shortly after noon on the following day, the Rambler came to the head of the Lachine rapids, six miles above Montreal.