And although they tried their best to make him explain he only shook his head and frowned darkly at the passing shore.
[CHAPTER XVI]
A MEETING OF FRIENDS
It turned off quite cool that evening toward sunset, a stiff breeze blowing up the river, snapping the flag at the top of the pole and sending the smoke from the stove swirling away in sudden gusts. They lighted the camp-fire early and, although the “dining-room” was sometimes invaded by choking gray fumes that made them cough and set their eyes to smarting, the warmth was grateful. Scarcely had the things been cleared up when there came a mighty hail from Inner Beach:
“Hello, the camp!”
They answered, and the big form of the Floating Artist, as Chub insisted on calling him, arose into sight over the bank, looking bigger than ever against the golden haze of sunset. Jack was with him, trotting demurely at his heels. Of course Snip was thrown into a fit of terrible excitement and had to dance around and bark wildly for the ensuing minute. But at last order was restored in camp, Snip silenced, Mr. Cole installed on an empty box that creaked loudly whenever he moved, and Jack was lying at Harry’s side with his head in her lap.
“Well, you’re pretty comfortably settled here,” said Mr. Cole. “And I suppose you’re having a grand time.”
“Yes, sir,” answered Roy, “we’ve had a good deal of fun so far.”