“We’ve got to go home now, whether we want to or not,” Harry said, as he poked the ashes idly with a stick.
“Well, we meant to go home in a few days anyway,” said Tom; “so the fire hasn’t got very much the better of us.”
“But I hate to have everything spoiled, and to have to go in this sort of way. Our tin pans and fishing-tackle aren’t worth much, but all our spare clothes have gone.”
“You’ve got your uncle’s gun in the boat, so that’s all right,” suggested Tom, encouragingly. “As long as the gun and the boat are safe, we needn’t mind about a few flannel shirts and things.”
“But it’s such a pity to be driven away when we were having such a lovely time,” continued Harry.
“That’s rubbish, Harry,” said Joe. “We were all beginning to get tired of camping out. I think it’s jolly to have the cruise end this way, with a lot of fireworks. It’s like the transformation scene at the theatre. Besides, it saves us the trouble of carrying a whole lot of things back with us.”
“The thing to do now,” remarked Tom, “is to row right down to the outlet, and get a team to take us to Glenn’s Falls this afternoon. We can’t sleep here, unless we build a hut, and then we wouldn’t have a blanket to cover us. Don’t let’s waste any more time talking about it.”
“That’s so! Take your places in the boat, boys, and we’ll start for home.” So saying, Harry led the way to the boat, and in a few moments the Whitewing was homeward bound.
The boys were lucky enough to find a man who engaged to take them to Glenn’s Falls in time to catch the afternoon train for Albany. They stopped at the Falls only long enough to see the Whitewing safely on board a canal-boat, and they reached Albany in time to go down the river on the night-boat.
After a supper that filled the colored waiters with astonishment and horror, the boys selected arm-chairs on the forward deck, and began to talk over the cruise. They all agreed that they had had a splendid time, in spite of hard work and frequent wettings.