“Suits me all right,” assented Harvey. “What do you say, Henry?”
“Bully!” said Henry Burns.
The fire of driftwood, which was plentiful everywhere along the shores of Grand Island, roared up cheerily against the evening sky. When it had burned for an hour or more, Jack Harvey deftly raked an enormous bed of the coals out from it, on which to set fry-pans and broilers and coffee-pot, still keeping the great fire going at a little distance, for the sake of its cheer.
They feasted, then, by the light of blazing timbers and junks of logs, borne down from the river, as only hungry campers can. Young Joe ceased laughing uproariously at Mr. Carleton’s stories only when his sixth banana and fourth piece of pie precluded loud utterance. And when it was over, and they went their several ways by woods and alongshore, they voted Mr. Carleton a generous provider.
He was ready again, was Mr. Carleton, the following afternoon, with the promised luxuries, alongside the Viking; and he was as much a boy as any of them when he and the owners of the yacht and Tom and Bob set out on a sail up the bay.
The wind was fresh and fair from the southward, the bay furrowed everywhere with billows breaking white, with just enough sea running to make it good sport. The Viking, with sheets well off, made a fine run to Springton, and bowled into that harbour with the spray flying.
They cast anchor and went up into the old town, which was quite a little settlement clustered on a steep bank overhanging the harbour, and which boasted of a fine summer hotel and several smaller ones. And when it got to be late afternoon, Mr. Carleton wouldn’t hear of their departing; but they should all stay to supper at the hotel. If the wind died down with the sun, why, they could stay all night. What did it matter, when they were out for a good time?
So they ate supper in style in the big hotel dining-room, and came forth from there an hour later to see the waters calm and the wind fallen.
“Never mind, we’ll sleep aboard the Viking,” said Henry Burns. “There’s room enough, though we have taken out some of the mattresses so as to put in the fishing-truck.”
But Mr. Carleton would not hear of this. Not for a moment. He liked roughing it, to be sure, as well as any of them. But they were his guests now for the night. They must remain right there at the hotel, and he would see about the rooms. And they should breakfast at the hotel and then sail back the next day at their ease.