Frank laughed good-naturedly.
“That’s quite enough, old fellow. Time I was up and about, for this promises to be a day that we may mark with a white stone in the log of our outing. The sun is going to get in sight presently. No signs of Bluff coming back?”
“He hasn’t arrived. I didn’t look out over the lake yet. Seems to be something of a haze, or morning fog on the water, so you can’t see very far,” replied Will.
Frank stepped to where he could have a clear, unobstructed view up the lake. As his chum had said, there were patches of fog rising off the water, but this was vanishing rapidly. Already one could see for quite some distance.
“See anything, brother?” called out Will, who was already beginning to put the coffee in the pot.
He had been on duty for several hours, and felt a bit hungry. Boys can eat six times a day when in the woods, for the open air seems to develop most tremendous appetites.
“Nothing except the solitary old loon that kept up such a screeching last night,” replied the lookout, shading his eyes with his hand, the better to look.
“I don’t like that. Hope nothing has happened to poor old Bluff.”
“There you go again. What could happen to him? He’s a cracking good swimmer, and even if he had an upset, which is most unlikely, he would hang to his canoe. The boat couldn’t sink with metallic air-chambers at both ends,” answered Frank.
“But surely he’s had plenty of time to get there and back?”