Pod had never paddled a canoe, but took to it naturally, his greatest
fault being that he paddled too swiftly, and soon found his arms aching
from the severe strain. Pod's canoe, like those of Chot and Tom, was of
the Canadian open pattern, about sixteen feet in length and perhaps
thirty inches wide. Cushions, filled with cork shavings, served as seats
for the young canoeists, with their feet resting on a stretcher to give
them a good brace. Then there was a cushioned back-rest against which
each boy leaned with a sense of comfort and security. In this easy
position, the work of paddling was done, and Pod began to taste the
delights of canoeing, though the muscles across his abdomen, which were
brought into play with every stroke, soon grew sore, and a realization
forced itself upon him that they would be still sorer by morning.
The boys proceeded up the river at a very leisurely pace. There was no
hurry, and Pod could not paddle rapidly anyway. The little fellow found
great difficulty in keeping his canoe on a straight course with a single
blade paddle, but after a little the knack of turning his blade at the
end of the stroke, so as to keep in one direction came to him as it
comes naturally to all who practice. He found that this turn of the
paddle was done by the wrist, and that when once acquired it was a very
simple matter to keep the bow headed the right way.
Fleet was the only boy in the party using a double-bladed paddle, but
Fleet's canoe was twenty feet long, rather broad of beam, and capable of
holding three persons. It was a much more formidable looking craft than
those owned by the other boys. Fleet, however, had paddled the big canoe
all his life, and the handling of the double blade was as easy for him
as "rolling off a log."
Chot and Tom, too, were experts, but neither liked the double blade,
preferring the lighter one, as well as a lighter craft.
In Fleet's canoe was stored most of the provisions, some cooking
utensils and a small tent, intended to afford shelter during a storm,
when the boys were in camp and sleep was necessary. Each boy carried as
his individual luggage a suit case containing a dark business suit, a
couple of extra shirts, collars, a pair of patent leather shoes, and
other articles necessary to make a natty appearance if the occasion
arose. Ordinarily they would need only their rowing clothes, which
consisted of a soft shirt, a pair of old trousers and light-soled tan
shoes. Each boy carried a sweater for use when the nights were cool, or
when he became overheated before landing.
The breeze had entirely died away by the time the canoes were a mile up
the river, and the boys paddled easily along, keeping abreast of Pod, so
that if by chance, his canoe "turned turtle," they would be on hand to
render assistance.
The little fellow evidently suspected their purpose, for he said:
"Don't worry about me. I can swim, can't I?"
"Guess you can," said Chot, "and a ducking won't hurt you, but we're
going to stay right with you anyway."
"I'm not going to upset. This is easy."
"Don't brag," said Fleet, as he pushed his paddle deep into the river
and sent his big cruiser flying a length ahead, then slowed down till
the other boys caught up with him. "Nobody ever went canoeing that
didn't get upset, and you'll get yours sooner or later. Better in the
old Hudson, too, than in the rapids of the St. Lawrence."
"And that's no gentle dream," said Tom, reverting to slang--a thing he
seldom did.
"By the way, how long is it going to take us to reach the St Lawrence?"
asked Pod.
"Don't know," said Chot. "We've no way of calculating. In the first
place, we don't know how long we'll be at the Creighton's; in the second
place, we're not going to hurry. This is a vacation and we're going to
take things easy--or at least, I am."
"An easy time and plenty to eat--that's my motto," said Fleet, and
immediately relapsed into verse:
There was a young fellow from Winton
Whose stomach he never was stintin';
He'd eat day or night
When dark or when light,
Oh, he was a regular spinton.
"A regular what?" cried Tom, as he stopped paddling for an instant and
looked up in surprise.
"A 'spinton'," repeated Fleet, with a chuckle.
"What the dickens is that?"
"Don't you know what a spinton is?" asked Fleet.
"No; never heard of it."
"I'm surprised at your ignorance."
"Well, suppose you enlighten us," said Chot.
"Can't," replied Fleet. "Don't know what it is myself."
"Then why did you use it?"
"Because it rhymed with Winton," replied the fleshy lad, with a grin.
"By the way," said Pod, "speaking of jokes."
"Now, who said anything about jokes?" Fleet demanded.
"Well, you had your little fling, didn't you? Give me a chance. Speaking
of jokes, what is the best time by the clock to tell a joke?"
"Oh, give it up," cried the other boys in unison.
"A joke is best appreciated when it strikes one," said the little
fellow. He laughed so loudly that his paddle slipped and he came near
capsizing. Then it was the turn of the others to laugh, and they made
the water ring with their shouts.
"Wish he'd gone over on that one," said Fleet. "A little water might
dampen his enthusiasm for making bad puns."
"The question now is, where are we going to spend the night?" said Tom.
The sun had long since disappeared behind the highlands, and evening was
nearly upon them.
"Well, it's moonlight," said Chot. "I thought we'd keep on at a slow
pace until Pod feels tired. Then we can go ashore, make a little camp,
and snooze till morning in the open."
"Ah! that sounds good to me," said Fleet. "We'll also eat in the open."
"You'll have to open the 'eat' before you can eat in the open," said
Pod.
"That'll do for you, youngster," said Fleet. "Jokes are barred until
to-morrow."
"I'm down."
"And you'll be out too, if you don't watch how you're paddling," said
Chot.
Pod was evidently about "all in," for his strokes were often wobbly, at
which times he failed to control his canoe, and came near ramming one of
the other boys.
"I'm good for another mile or so," said Pod. "I know every muscle in my
body will ache to-morrow, so I want to keep limber as long as I can."
Finally the moon came out from behind a cloud and shed its radiance over
the water, which appeared beautiful indeed in the soft yellow light. The
boys were loath to leave the river, but Pod finally admitted that his
arms were stiff and that he could not paddle much farther. As near as
they could calculate they had covered eight miles, when Chot gave the
order to swing in toward the shore.
A fine shady nook lay before them, where the green grass tempted them.
All were hungry, so after pulling the canoes up on to the shore, the
boys picked them up and carried them up on the grassy knoll, where, with
trees all around them, they made preparations to camp for the night.
What boy has not thrilled with pride when he slept in the open, often
with no covering save the blue canopy, studded with stars, and a moon
throwing its soft rays in his face? American boys love this life, and
lose no opportunity to go camping, hunting and fishing. The Comrades
were no exception to the rule--in fact, were never quite satisfied when
forced to stay indoors.
As soon as the canoes were pulled high and dry on the knoll, Chot began
to give orders, showing what an expert camper he was. Indeed his
experience was considerable as the reader may learn from the previous
books of this series which commenced with "Comrades in Camp" and "In New
York." Then followed the stories of the South West "Ranch," "New Mexico"
and "Great Divide." Later "School," "Winton Hall" and "Oval."
It had been decided that Chot should be the guiding spirit of this
vacation; that all disputes were to be settled by him, and that he was
to map out the route, say how long they should stay in a certain
place--in fact, take the entire responsibility for creating the best of
good times on the trip.
"Tom, you and Fleet throw out that tent, and while Pod and I are putting
it up, get out a couple of cans of those cold beans, slice some cold
ham, cut some bread, and put the water bottles where we can get hold of
them. If any of you fellows feel like coffee we will build a fire and
I'll make it for you."
"Yum, yum, coffee!" said Fleet. "That certainly listens well."
"I think so too," said Tom.
"Well, I believe I could drink a cup or so myself," Chot admitted.
Chot and Pod unrolled the tent, which was "V" shaped, with no sides,
being intended merely for a roof. They stretched it between the trees,
spread four blankets on the soft grass, took the cushions out of the
canoes, and the sleeping quarters of the party were ready for occupancy.
Then each boy turned his attention to the preparing of the meal. The
coffee was soon steaming in a kettle over the fire, kindled by Pod with
some dry leaves and branches. Tom cut slices of rye bread, and spread
tempting pieces of boiled ham between them. Fleet opened two cans of
beans, and a jar of raspberry jam, and all was ready.
To say that the boys enjoyed their first meal would be but half
expressing it. Fleet ate everything that was put before him and cried
for more.
"These beans are the finest I've ever had," said he, though his mouth
was so full that his words were hardly intelligible to his chums.
"Don't forget your table manners," said Tom. "Remember your mother
taught you not to talk with your mouth full."
"He's not talking," said Pod. "He's only trying."
"Blub--blub--blub--I'll--I'll--gug--gug--gug--get--you--fuh--fuh--blub--blub----"
spluttered Fleet.
"Swallow it!" cried Chot, "and don't do it again. We're running a
respectable boarding house--not a pig pen."
Fleet swallowed as Chot told him, coughed violently, then seized one of
the water bottles and drank long and hard.
"Leave the bottle, and we'll fill it again," said Tom.
With tears in his eyes Fleet waved his hand for them to desist. Pod
jumped up and patted him on the back with no gentle force, which
straightened the fleshy one out in a hurry.
"What do you think you're doing, anyway?" he demanded, glaring at his
little comrade. "I'm no punching bag!"
"That so? Thought you were."
"Fleet has eaten enough to last him three days," said Chot. "Remember,
fellows, he gets nothing but water during that time. There must be
something left for the rest of us."
"Humph! I'd like to see you fellows keep me from eating!" snorted Fleet.
"Oh, you'd like to? Well, then, watch us."
It was ten o'clock when the boys had finished telling stories and
discussing their trip. By that time all were sleepy, and Pod was
beginning to feel lame all over.
"Gee! I hate to lie down, fellows," he said. "I know I won't be able to
move in the morning."
Then the boys rolled up in their blankets, and fifteen minutes later
were so deep in Slumberland that not even Fleet's snoring created an
impression.