Jack and Rex again caught trout for supper but did not hook what Jack called a big one, the largest weighing but three pounds.
As the blankets and other things were not thoroughly dried out in the morning they were obliged to delay their departure until after nine o’clock.
“It’s too bad, but it can’t be helped.”
“A few hours more or less isn’t going to make any difference,” Rex assured him.
Soon after they started they reached the head of Chesuncook Lake.
“We cross this,” Bob explained, “and then there’s a small stream that runs out of Longley Pond which we can go up if the water’s high enough. Then we’ll have a seven or eight-mile carry across to Chamberlain Lake.”
And now, for the first time, they had to make use of the paddles other than steering. But Bob in the bow and Kernertok in the stern sent the light canoe, heavily laden as it was, at a rapid pace through the water and in a little over half an hour they were at the mouth of the stream which was not much more than a brook.
“Think there’s enough water?” Bob called back as he headed the canoe up the stream.
“No heap much. Mebby she go mebby not. We try it.”
“Always try anything once.” Bob laughed.