“I’ll swap my interest in it for a cup of coffee and a slice of bread,” answered Dick, morosely. “I’m going to see if I can find the boat.”
“Don’t go,” begged Chub. “Sit here beside me on this downy couch and let us view the prospect o’er.”
“I’ll wager we’re too far down the river,” said Roy, inattentively. “Let’s go that way. From that point there we ought to be able to see the boat.”
“Lead on,” cried Chub. “We place ourselves in your hands.”
They skirted the cove and reached the point, but although from there they could see several hundred yards up the shore, there was no sight of either another cove or the Slow Poke.
“I guess we’re too far upstream, after all,” said Roy. “Let’s look the other way.”
“I’m thankful the river doesn’t run east and west as well,” said Chub. “’Tis a merry life we lead.”
Back they went to the cove and around that to another point. But below there the shore wound in and out confusedly, and, even had the Slow Poke lain fifty yards away from them, it was now so dark that it is doubtful if they could have discerned her.
“Let us lie down here quietly and die,” suggested Chub.