“Did you let the cat in?”
Then there was peace and silence save for the contented, humming of the mosquitoes.
[CHAPTER VIII]
DRIVEN TO COVER
The next day after breakfast was over the Slow Poke took up her journey again. It had been decided that the proper thing to do was to get up the river to the neighborhood of Peekskill where, according to Roy, there was fishing to be had. “Besides,” said Chub, “we want to get away from all these towns. Civilization is wearying. I pine for the virgin forest.”
“I don’t believe you’ll find much of that around Peekskill,” responded Dick. “Look at the map!”
“Oh, you mustn’t believe all you see on the map,” answered Chub, cheerfully. “Something tells me—” placing a finger on the chart—“that here I shall find virgin forest. Also trout. Let us up and away.”
They chugged unhurriedly up the river all the morning, the engine much to Dick’s delight, working beautifully. At noon they tied up near Ossining and had dinner.
“I’d hate to travel on that,” said Chub, pointing with his fork to a steamer which was gliding by out in the river. “It goes so fast those people can’t begin to see the beauties of the country. Now with us it’s different. We catch sight of an object of interest at ten in the morning. At eleven we approach it. At twelve we reach it. At one we are by but still have it in plain sight. It fades from view at four in the afternoon. That’s something like. We have time to study and—er—assimilate, you see. Why, every feature of the landscape we have passed is indelibly engraven on my memory.”