They could accelerate their speed now and the Good Turn had her work cut out for her keeping up, even with the Honor Scout’s motor throttled down to half-speed.
“This is historic territory,” said Mr. Ellsworth. “Almost every rock has its tale to tell of the bloody French and Indian War——”
“I hope they won’t tell them,” said Roy. “School’s closed.”
But for all that he was interested as “our beloved scoutmaster” recalled some of the stirring events which occurred along the rugged, historic shores between which they were passing. They paused to see the ruins of the old Revolutionary fort at Crown Point, and the restored fort at Ticonderoga, with its underground passage to the shore.
The first night of their cruise through the lake they tied up at Port Henry and early in the morning sallied forth into the town for oil, gasoline and supplies, replenishing their depleted stock sufficiently for the fifty mile run up to Plattsburg.
“Believe me, this is some hike,” said Roy.
“I dare say it looks about the same,” mused Mr. Ellsworth, glancing about at the wild shore, “as it did when Champlain sailed through it with his Indian guides——”
“That was sumpty-sump years ago,” said Artie Van Arlen, “you have him in the third grade.”
“Maybe he stopped at Port Henry for gasoline,” suggested Roy.
“I hope he didn’t have to pay twenty-three cents for it,” said Connie.