Mrs. Manley, Belle, and the two visitors watched the start from the porch. Affectionately the mother kissed her sons good-bye and breathed a prayer for their safety. She knew that the journey they were about to undertake was dangerous in the extreme, yet she never uttered one word of protest. It was necessary that they go—their father had called for them. And, as she waved good-bye, she smiled cheerfully and bravely. These were her sons—they would come back as they had always done, successful, unharmed. Yet strive as she would, the mother could not keep a tiny lump from coming into her throat.
The truck containing the five men—Teddy, Roy, Bug Eye, Pop, and Casey, the driver, reached the river in half an hour. Carefully the canoe was lifted from the platform and carried to the water’s edge.
“Now!” Roy grunted, and they swung it into the stream. Eagerly they bent over, watching the bottom with anxious eyes. For a moment they waited.
“Not a drop!” Teddy exulted. “You did a good job, Pop. Nary a leak. Hope she stays that way, and I guess she will. It’s a good boat. All right, Jim. Let’s get the rest of the stuff out. Then you can mosey back. Let Nick sleep as long as he wants to—he’s had a hard ride. And tell Belle she’ll have to ride to Eagles herself for that whip I promised her unless she wants to wait until I get back. It’s at the express office now. Wait—take that roll of blankets first, and we’ll stow ’em at the bow where they’ll stay dry.”
The canoe was soon loaded and ready to start. Roy and Bug Eye were to paddle first, while Teddy and Pop sat in the middle.
“So long!” Jim called. “If you see The Pup tell him we been lookin’ for him!”
“Now why should we see The Pup?” Roy asked of no one in particular, and dipped his paddle deep into the water. “Although I was thinking the same thing a while ago. Pipe dreams, I guess. What do you say, Bug Eye? Let’s hit it up. Hu, hu, hu, hu....”
The boat glided downstream, both paddlers stroking in unison to Roy’s grunted chanty. The gentle current added to their speed, and they went along at a good rate. On either side of the river, willows trailed their drooping branches into the water and afforded a grateful shade from the midday sun. Roy, seated in the rear of the craft, steered nearer the edge to take advantage of this protection.
To the left, many miles from the river, but because of its hugeness seeming almost to border it, rose the highest peak in that part of the country. Its top was capped with eternal snow and framed in a wreath of clouds—a picture to make even the most indifferent heart beat faster. The sparkling water of the stream reflected the sun like a polished mirror. After half an hour of paddling, Roy stopped for a moment and shaded his eyes with his hand.
“She curves around here some place, doesn’t she?” he asked. “I don’t exactly remember—it’s a long time since I’ve been down this far.”