CHAPTER III
ALL ABOARD!
The day of departure had actually come at last. It was a beautiful morning, with a brisk, cool breeze sending white clouds scudding through the blue above, while the Columbia's broad surface was broken into choppy waves.
The boys' luggage—there wasn't so very much of it—lay piled in a corner. Guns and hunting knives gleamed brightly wherever stray beams of sunlight found their polished surfaces.
Just a few hours more! Jack Conroy stared rather gloomily around. The cozy cabin had never looked more inviting; strange how it seemed to have improved since the moment they decided to leave it. Dave, resting easily, with his feet stretched upon a chair, was busy scribbling something in his note-book. All the others were too excited and eager to stay in one place very long. They walked up and down, talking in low tones, making a tremendous effort to appear unconcerned, but without great success.
"Let's go over by the bluff," remarked Bob, presently. "Coming, fellows?"
"Guess you expect to see the 'Osprey' take wing and fly away," said Jack.
Leaving the literary boy struggling heroically with the muse, the rest walked out, kicking up the yellow leaves which were thickly strewn about.
For a long time they sat on a convenient log, their eyes often turning toward the "Osprey," whose black hull and tapering masts glowed one moment in light, then became cold and gray in the swiftly-flying shadows that skimmed across the landscape.