And this sentiment met with unanimous approval.
So Jack Lyons anchored the “Gray Gull” once more, while the “Reindeer” and “Dart” slowly moved toward the shore.
The house-boat boys lay down again, and when they awoke in the morning their midnight visitors had gone.
The heat was somewhat less oppressive, and a pleasant air rippled the water.
About noon they caught a glimpse of the Catskill Mountains to the west, a faint gray line against a pile of whitish clouds. But the telescope brought this wooded range into closer view and the charm and beauty of the scenery appealed to all.
Later in the afternoon, the “Gray Gull” was approaching a section of the river in which there are a number of islands. As they slowly continued along, some of these were found to be small, wooded hills, while others were flat and marshy.
“Fellows,” remarked Jack Lyons, “let’s camp out to-night for a change.”
“Select your island, cap,” said Joe.
“That one with rocks and trees suits me. Plenty of shade—just the place for a camp.”
“And must be a lot of nice plants to study,” added Dave. “Let’s go there by all means.”