“Then I may come along?”
“If you’d like to,” quoth the Shark, half-grudgingly, and started off.
Varley followed him. Mr. Grant and his helper were still in the house, and the other boys were grouped about Poke. None of them, as it happened, observed the departure of the two.
CHAPTER XIII
THE SHARK DEMONSTRATES
Varley splashed after his leader. No other word would quite describe the sort of journey he made at the heels of the Shark; for as soon as they had descended from the slight rise of the “Island,” and come to the lower levels, they encountered many evidences of the rapid progress of the thaw. Probably even in summer there was more or less swampy ground hereabouts; but now water from the melting snow stood in shallow pools, through which the Shark marched unconcernedly. He was wearing big overshoes, with tops of waterproof cloth buckled tightly about the bottoms of his trousers, and appeared to give no more thought to the puddles underfoot than he gave to the rain.
Paul had a somewhat different equipment, inasmuch as he was shod in leather only, but leather prepared by some new process for rough wear and guaranteed to be water-tight. So far the new shoes—they laced well up his legs—had seemed to meet the guarantee, but he began to wonder if they would continue to do so. Certainly he was putting them to an extreme test, as, for that matter, he was testing the qualities of his heavy outer jacket. Indeed, he smiled more than once to himself as he thought how curiously unlike his city experience it was to be trudging along on such a day, and in such a place, and, it may be added, in such company. For the Shark surely was an odd stick. He hardly opened his lips as they tramped along, but Varley found him entertaining, for all that.
Thick clumps of undergrowth here and there prevented a march in a straight course, and also so narrowed the field of view that Paul had small notion of the direction they were taking. The Shark, however, went along quite as if he were on familiar ground. To be sure, he glanced about him frequently, but with an effect, almost, of picking up landmarks; and, presently, quickening his pace, headed straight into a hedge-like line of bushes, forced a passage through them, and gave a grunt of satisfaction.
“Ugh! Hit it about right. Not too far up—that’s the main thing.”
Paul overtook him, and halting, as he had halted, looked out upon the Sugar River. It was a sizable stream at all times, but now, swollen by melting snow, it was a river of imposing proportions. It was running almost bank full. There was a great deal of ice coming down-stream; the cakes, in some cases, were like small floes. The current was swift, and the cakes ground and grated together savagely. Moreover, the water was of a muddy color, which could have had nothing to do with its temperature, but which, for some reason Paul didn’t understand, made him shiver.
“Whew! I’d hate to have to take a dip in there,” said he.