Strange to say, however, they appeared to have alighted in a locality quite bare of streams and lakes and nothing on the map looked enticing nearer than a good-sized lake half a day’s journey upstream and several miles back from the river. They held a council and decided to try their luck there, the Doctor declaring with enthusiasm that a lake like that ought to have plenty of black bass in it. Chub and Dick had never fished for bass, and that was enough incentive for them. The Slow Poke was put at her best pace and they reached their destination that afternoon. After supper the Doctor regaled them with stories of bass fishing that made their hearts beat high in anticipation of the morrow’s sport.
They were up early to secure a full morning’s fishing. Everyone went, Snip showing more true enthusiasm than any other member of the expedition. The lake proved a long way off, the road was very hot and very dusty, and after the first mile Harry was trailing along in the rear, with Chub gallantly bearing her company. They were all tired out when they reached the lake and the sight which greeted them there was far from cheering. The lake was large enough, but for fully half a mile around where they stood it was so shallow that rushes grew for hundreds of feet out into the water. The Doctor shook his head dubiously.
“It doesn’t look much like a bass lake,” he muttered, “but we’ll walk along around that point and see what’s there.”
They walked around that point and two more before they found a semblance of deep water. There was nothing in sight in the way of a boat or raft, and at last they tried a few casts from a bank and in the course of half an hour caught five small fish which the Doctor said were crappies. Whatever they were they were not worth carrying home. The only catch of any importance was made by Snip. He found a turtle on the bank and worried it until it closed on his paw. His yelps brought prompt assistance from Chub who pried the turtle’s jaws apart and threw it into the lake. Snip stood in the mud and barked for fully five minutes at the place where the turtle had disappeared. At noon they reeled in their lines, packed their poles and went back to the boat, reaching it just before two o’clock, too warm and tired and disgusted to be hungry. They had a cold luncheon instead of a dinner, and Harry made some iced tea for which they sacrificed the last piece of ice on board. After luncheon Chub strode to the wheel-house and seized his chart with an air of determination.
“I don’t like this place,” he said. “Let’s get out of here as soon as we can.”
That evening they tied up to a little deserted wharf a few miles below Albany, and in the morning chugged on to the capital. They spent that day ashore, shopping and sightseeing, and had dinner at a hotel. They bought gasolene and ice and fresh meat and fruit and vegetables and what Chub called “real milk.” They spent a very hot night there, anchored in the river, and in the morning went on northward until noon.
“I don’t think much of the river up here,” said Dick.
“Well, it isn’t anything to boast of,” Chub replied. “If every one else is willing I say let’s turn and go back.”
Everyone was quite willing and so after dinner was over the boat was headed down-stream. The next day found them moored at the foot of a sloping pasture which ran back and up to a thick forest. The pasture looked as though it might contain berries, and Harry mentioned the fact. Chub pointed out that whether there were berries there or not there were certainly cows. But Harry declared that she wasn’t afraid of any number of cows and so, leaving the Doctor to keep house, they took pails and buckets and set forth. Harry had guessed right and they had no difficulty in filling their pails with blackberries. There were a few blueberries, too, and Roy had a brilliant idea.