“Why did you keep on into the wind?” Mr. Stone asked. “Why didn’t you turn back and run with it to the east shore where you came from?”
The boys explained how they thought they were going to get out of the wind under the protection of Llao Rock.
“There’s no protection on that lake in a storm,” the doctor said. “Fortunately, there aren’t many storms. I told you to keep near shore, though, and you crossed right over. Well, never mind that now. Guess you’ve had your lesson.”
“Guess we have,” said Bennie, as he stumbled wearily along, hardly able to drag one foot after the other. “But we thought we were pretty near the north shore when we crossed. Only to get there, we’d have to go broadside, and besides, it was taking us away from camp.”
“Still,” said his uncle, quietly, “you didn’t quite live up to your promise, did you?”
“No, sir,” Bennie admitted. “It won’t happen again, Uncle Billy.”
The six miles back to camp turned out to be seven. It seemed to the boys that they would never get there. But at last they did. Dumplin’ had a roaring fire going, both in the stove and the camp fire ring of stones. Coffee was ready to boil, and bacon to fry. He had eggs, too, bought from the hotel.
The scouts fell into their tent and ripped off their clothes, getting a rub-down before putting on dry ones. By the time they were ready, their dinner was cooked, and they came out to the table, dragging their feet wearily, and slumped down on the camp chairs.
“Good old Dumplin’!” said Bennie, as he waded into the food, “I never loved you so much as I do at this minute.”
“P’r’aps you’d like to kiss him,” Spider suggested, also cheering up as he felt the warmth of the food.