"I don't believe we could find the float even if we tried for it," piped his friend with malicious satisfaction.
"Find it? Of course we can. I've traveled this river too many times to get lost on it. I know every inch of the stream."
"But aren't there boats at the landing?"
"Oh, they've been hauled in for the season long ago. I know that to be a fact."
"Then I guess young Turner must have gone."
"That's what I've been trying to tell you for the last half-hour," asserted the other voice with high-pitched irritation. "Why waste all this time? Let's land, talk things over, lay our plans, and be getting back to Freeman's Falls. We mustn't be seen returning to the town together too late for it might arouse suspicion."
"You're right there."
"Then go ahead and paddle for the landing. I'll steer. Just have your hand out so we won't bump."
The lapping of the paddles came nearer and nearer. Then there was a crash as the nose of the canoe struck the float.
"You darned idiot, Cronin! Why didn't you fend her off as I told you to?"