Relieved to find that there was nothing near but cows, the other boys laughed too.
“Maybe you scared the cow, Chot—who knows?” cried Fleet.
Then, as if to set their fears entirely at rest, one of the cows sent a plaintive “Mooh-h-h!” echoing through the trees.
“Oh, pshaw! I’m sorry I woke up now,” said Fleet, and with a yawn he dropped back into his blanket.
The others followed more leisurely, and soon all were slumbering peacefully again. This time nothing disturbed them, until they were awakened at dawn by the twittering of birds in the trees overhead.
Coffee, rolls, and jam served as their breakfast and at seven o’clock they pushed off into the lake again.
Two hours later they entered the little stream that connects Lake George with Lake Champlain. Paddling became easier here and they made good time, and shortly after eleven sighted the larger lake. Lake Champlain was in the form of a bay where they entered it, and seeing a town on the right, they concluded to stop there for dinner. The town proved to be Delano, a pretty little village, where they were able to secure most everything that appealed to them in the way of food.
Well satisfied, but not inclined to labor very heavily, they again pushed off, wielding their paddles slowly as they moved up the lake.
Toward evening they came to where two points of land jutted out into the water, one from either side. Between them was a narrow passage of water, while beyond, the lake was five or six miles wide, and apparently wider still in the distance.
“This is Crown Point on our left and Chimney Point on our right,” said Bert. “I came up here once in a small sail boat. I think this will be a fine place to camp to-night.”