“Isn’t it?” asked his chum pathetically. “My arms feel as though it was twelve!”
“Rest awhile,” said Jeffrey from the stern. “I can work it alone here. The current isn’t so hard now.”
“No, I’ll keep at it until I fall in a swoon,” answered Poke. “One arm’s numb clear to the elbow now and doesn’t hurt so much. I dare say I’ll soon be beyond all pain.”
“Let’s paddle in to the bank,” Jim suggested, “and take a rest. I’m just about all in, fellows.”
So they turned the canoes to where the branches of the trees overhung a little stretch of pebbly beach and ran the bows of the craft ashore. Poke laid his dripping paddle across his knees, murmured “Good night!” and apparently sank into slumber. They were all, excepting Jeffrey and Hope, glad of the respite, for paddling against the current, even for those accustomed to it, is no light task. Hope wanted to get out and “explore,” but her brother hard-heartedly commanded her to sit still and not overturn the canoe.
“Isn’t the river perfectly beautiful!” she exclaimed.
There was a deep sigh from Poke. “It is indeed paradise,” he murmured. Presently he raised his head and looked about him, passing a hand across his damp forehead. “Where am I?” he asked dazedly. “Ah, I remember all! I thought ’twas but a dream!”
“Well, suppose we dream some more,” laughed Jeffrey. “After we get to Riverbend we can rest as long as we want to. You fellows ready?”
“Yes, come on,” answered Jim. “Push her off, Gil.”
“Aren’t we going to have our luncheon now?” asked Poke in injured surprise. “Only the thought of food has kept me alive thus far. Let’s every one have a sandwich, fellows, just one miserable little sandwich.”