"Now three good cheers for Washington's birthday," said Gordon. Hats waved in the air, and three cheers were given with hearty good will by all the boys, who then took the narrow path that led along the bank to the town.
It was somewhat past the appointed time that evening before all the boys were again at the Curve. Gordon had taken too long a rest, and overslept; Max Utley had mislaid his skates; and Ralph, of course, was late.
"On time?" drawled this delinquent, as he sauntered up to the group of boys, some on one knee fastening their skates, others sitting on a log as they performed this operation, and still others stamping a foot to make sure that all was secure before starting out.
"Yes, your time—half an hour late," replied Jack Foster. "We are all ready for the skate up the river, and do not intend to wait for any one."
"Don't expect any favors; don't deserve any," said Ralph, not in the least ruffled by Jack's remark. "Perhaps I can meet you on the down trip. I shall make the effort, anyway."
"Well, shall we set fire to the pile?" said Max.
Half a dozen boys were ready for this work, and after a number of matches had flared up and gone out in the haste of each boy to be the first to start a blaze, little flames were seen creeping in among the brush and reaching out blue and red fingers towards the logs.
Off the boys started then, Gordon at the head, and Ralph bringing up the rear.
It was a clear starlight night.
"To the Dip!" shouted Gordon. "To the Dip!" was sent back along the line, and on they sped.