"Pretty bad day for Nat," remarked Dick. "He'll get square with old Zeke Tipson."
"And with us, too, if he gets a chance," said Bob.
"I am just as well pleased that young Wingate is not going with you," declared Mr. Somers. "He seems to be a trouble maker."
The cheerful chug-chug of the engine was music to their ears, and Bob, at the wheel, could scarcely contain his delight, as the "Rambler" glided smoothly over the rippling surface of the river. Mr. Somers, too, seemed to enjoy the experience, and continued to give them bits of helpful advice.
The stream at this point was about a quarter of a mile wide, and they were afforded a series of ever-changing views. Wooded hills rose on either side, bathed in the white, sparkling light of an early summer morning, but the monotony was relieved by ravines, fields and areas of deep shadow. There were a few sailing craft about, while, upon the opposite shore, several clumsy canal-boats were slowly making their way up the river.
In a little over half an hour, the "Rambler" had traversed four miles.
"Well, boys, what do you think of it?" inquired Mr. Somers.
The chorus of enthusiastic replies more than convinced the gentleman that the five boys were thoroughly delighted, and he was almost sorry to give the order to turn back.
"I am not able to spare any more time from business," he said. "You may come out again to-morrow."
"And when shall we start on our trip, father?" asked Bob, anxiously, while the rest of the Ramblers listened in expectant silence.