Across the river we could see the high sandstone bluffs, in the ravines and canyons of which are numerous caves, some of which are fairly good size. It’s odd, in a way, that there should be any “wild” land in a section so completely crisscrossed with hard auto roads as La Salle county. But if you could see how deep and dangerous some of the river canyons are you’d understand why so few people go there.
Dressing after our peachy swim, I got my eyes on an old log raft that had lodged in the willows. There is only one thing that a raft is good for, but when I tried to show my chum what that something was I had the bad luck to skid into the river, clothes and all.
And what gave Poppy all the more chance to hoot at me was the smart gab that I had dished out to him about “Washington crossing the Delaware.” As a matter of fact, if I hadn’t acted the monkey with my “posing” stuff I wouldn’t have ended up with a wet shirt-tail. And what was even worse, my pants accidentally burned up when we built a fire to dry them.
But rather than stick around here until dark, I started for home in a headless and bottomless barrel that Poppy had found on the river bank. It was fun at first. That is, I tried to let on that it was fun. For lots of times when a fellow does that he can take the gloom out of a bad predicament. But with slivers puncturing me at every step I soon got tired of it. Besides, this was no way for me to hit town. If the Tutter kids spotted me they’d start rolling me around as sure as pop. And how lovely for me without any pants on!
“I’m going back to Mrs. O’Mally’s,” I told Poppy. “And if I can’t do any better I’ll borrow a nightgown.”
Suddenly we heard the muffled thump-thump-thump of an approaching motor car. And having no particular desire to be act “A” in the free vaudeville show, as it were, I frisked myself, barrel and all, into a convenient cornfield.
Nearer and nearer came the auto. Then it stopped. Taking a guarded peek I saw that it was one of the canning company’s trucks. And who do you suppose was jacking up one of the hind wheels? No one but little cutie, himself.
“Got a puncture?” I heard Poppy inquire pleasantly.
“Huh! Is it any of your business?” the hot-faced worker looked up with a scowl.
“Makes you sweat, huh?” was Poppy’s further pleasant contribution to the conversation.