“I suppose it cost a lot,” said Dud.
“I’ll bet it did. I told him the other day that it was too pretty to use, and he said he thought it was, too. Seems he didn’t know much about canoes and let Bert Winslow order it, and Bert got all the trimmings the law allows. That’s like Bert. I guess it’s too heavy to handle well. Here comes Brew Longley and Foster Tray. Don’t forget to speak now!”
A battered green canoe occupied by two youths passed and salutations were exchanged. For once Dud managed to get just the proper amount of mixed hauteur and friendliness in his greeting. Somehow, since yesterday, it wasn’t so hard to do things like that. Tray, a football player and track team member, laughed as the canoes passed. “See you got a canoe now, Jimmy,” he called.
Jimmy waved his paddle nonchalantly. “Yes, it’s a poor thing but mine own. I’ll let you use it, Tray, any time you like. I believe in lending to them as hasn’t.”
“You believe in borrowing, too, don’t you?” laughed Longley.
“Anything but trouble,” responded Jimmy, over his shoulder.
They paused near the old wooden bridge beyond the boathouse to watch an automobile dash by at some forty miles an hour, and Jimmy sighed as he began to paddle again. “I always think every time that the old affair will fall into the river, but it never does. I never do have any luck!” Beyond the bridge, where the river widened as it wound through the marshes, they met a canoe at about every turn. Many were drawn to the bank, and their crews were usually lying at ease above. About two miles beyond the bridge and within view of Needham Falls they overtook a white canoe, or a canoe that had been white at one time, apparently empty, since at a little distance nothing showed but an idle paddle and the backs of the seats.
“That,” mused Dud, “looks like Ordway’s. It must have got away from him somewhere further back. We’d better tow it home, hadn’t we?”
“I guess so. Got anything we can tie it up with?” Jimmy altered the direction of his craft to run alongside the derelict.