There is no knowing how long this might have continued, had not Pod arose with a snort of disgust and announced his intention of going to bed.
Pod’s anger did not last long, however, and in the morning he had forgotten that there ever was such a thing as a joke about two dentists.
The boys were astir before sun-up. A fire was kindled and a pot of coffee made, and well satisfied so far as the inner boy was concerned, the boys pushed their canoes out in the stream just as Old Sol came peeping over the hills to the east.
“I want to make a good day of it,” said Chot. “We should be in Sandy Hill by to-morrow noon.”
“Sandy Hill?” inquired Fleet. “Where is that, and why do you say we should be there?”
“Because there is where we leave the Hudson.”
“Do you mean that we have a portage so soon?”
“Not exactly a portage because we do not carry our canoes. But we take the train at Sandy Point for Lake George Station on the southern end of Lake George, which is only eight miles from Bert Creighton’s home near Kattskill Bay.”
“Do you suppose Bert is looking for us so soon?”
“I told him we’d be only a few days—not more than a week, at the most—getting to his place.”