“Is it deep enough all the way around by the shore?” Howard asked.
“You mean the coast, not the shore,” said Pee-wee; “we have to go coastwise; we have to hug the coast; that doesn’t mean putting our arms around it.”
By reason of the surrounding hills the shore of Black Lake was precipitous all the way round, except where the camp was. The water was therefore comparatively deep, even close under the shore. Wriggling in and out of the tiny passes near the lake wound a trail which would have completely encircled it, notwithstanding many smaller obstacles, save for Goldenrod Cove which was the beginning of the lake’s main outlet.
By dint of pulling on the bushes and pushing with a couple of scout staffs and dancing on the unsusceptible platform, they succeeded in getting it along the shore till the camp was almost opposite them across the water.
The progress of the gallant bark was something like the progress of a stubborn mule, and it certainly hugged the shore with an altogether affectionate embrace. It would flop along but nothing would tempt it to tear itself away from the sheltering bushes. These hung so low that in places they playfully removed our hero’s hat and ruffled his curly hair and deposited volleys of clinging burs upon his martial regalia.
Scout Willie and Scout Howard wrestled valiantly with these leafy tormentors, closing their eyes and sweeping the assaulting clusters aside as the noble float flopped resolutely along. But they were covered with burs from head to foot; there were prickling burs on their stockings, down their necks, and worst of all, in their shoes. Burs lurked in their hair and would not be routed. One bur, more valiant than the rest, dared to penetrate within the khaki shirt of our hero, taking up a strategic position in the small of his back where it kept up a running assault with a hundred million tiny prongs. It was in vain that he approached this invader from the rear; in vain that he wriggled and twisted and almost tied his heroic body in a knot. The tormentor was not to be harried or dislodged.
“I got burs all over me,” said Scout Willie; “wait a minute, I have to take off my shoe.”
“Feel down my neck,” said Scout Howard; “it tickles.”
“Do you think that an explorer—do you think that—Peary—was scared of burs?” Pee-wee demanded contemptuously, the while madly scratching his back.
“Maybe they don’t have burs at the North Pole,” Scout Howard ventured.