Jimmy yanked him to his feet and called out to Pat: “We’re going canoeing. Back in time for lunch.”
“Okay,” came Pat’s voice from inside the cabin.
“You bet we’ll be back for lunch,” Alf said as he and Jimmy glided out upon the lake. “What’s the coil of rope doing in the canoe?”
“I brought it along so we could climb a bee tree if we found one,” laughed Jimmy. “Anyhow it belongs to Pat. I think it’s some of Theresa’s clothesline.”
The boys turned into the stream, and when they came to the forking of the water, they entered the narrower stream toward its right shore, where the waters seemed quieter. While Alf paddled, Jimmy made a loop of the rope and tossed it toward a stout little spruce.
“This comes in handy,” said Jimmy, as the rope caught and Alf paddled in close to the shore. “This current is certainly strong,” he added soberly. “And I imagine if we got caught in the center we’d be headed for the falls.”
“Are there falls near here?” Alf asked.
“I think so. Don’t you hear them?”
Alf agreed and they discussed Jimmy’s plan of either drawing the canoe ashore and footing it down, or easing the canoe along the right shore. But there was a tangle of underbrush along the bank and the footing was uneasy. They decided to risk it because they had the rope to throw out to some tree so they could keep out of the current. They kept very close to the shore and before they reached the peninsula, they beached the canoe in a curve that was almost a pool and hastened, over sticks and brush and stones, to see what lay farther down.