“Let’s leave these things here,” suggested Tom, “and come up for them to-morrow.”
“You can leave your rug if you want to,” replied Alf, “but I prefer to take mine along. I don’t care to lose it; it cost money.”
“That’s different, of course,” answered Tom cheerfully. “They gave me mine with a pair of suspenders. Nevertheless I cherish it deeply and will e’en bear it with me.”
“They may keep us from freezing to death before we get home,” said Dan morosely.
“Oh, you won’t be cold by the time you reach the bridge,” answered Tom. “All ready? Who’s got the pesky glasses? You, Gerald? Give them to me and I’ll stick ’em in my pockets. That’s all right. Now, then, the bridge party will proceed.”
It was a rather silent quartet that tramped along the river bank in the wind. Luckily they were leaving the marshes behind, and, although they did get their feet wet more than once, they encountered no streams. The mile and a half seemed nearer three, but that was no doubt due to the fact that they had to stumble through bushes and briars and force their way through thickets.
“Was that one of the school canoes you had?” asked Alf once.
“Yes,” Dan replied sadly. “How much will they charge me for it, do you think?”
“About twenty-five, I guess. Maybe it will be found, though.”
“Gee, I hope so! You had your own, didn’t you?”