June ir, 1910.] 
FOREST AND STREAM. 
931 
\ 
“I can’t find Pop any place,” he shouted 
above the wind. “I can’t imagine-” 
“Well, you’ll find him in the house,” I 
screamed back, “and if you will kindly join him 
I’ll tie you together and lock the door till 
morning. Then you can start out again and 
chase each other all day, if you like, but I want 
to get a little sleep to-night.” And little did I 
get, as we had to celebrate the family reunion 
by a hot supper, which lasted til the wee sma’ 
hours. 
As our boat was much like the little girl who 
was horrid when she was bad, but when she 
arid breathless, I gasped, “What’s-the-mat—?” 
when I caught the lightning in the Boy’s eye. 
“Well, of all the-,” he began, “when I do 
manage to get everything going right, it’s a 
pity you can’t go and tie us up with your old 
towel!” 
“Why, I didn’t do a thing,” I declared. “That 
wheel just reached up and snatched it!” And 
I meekly got down and tried to pull it out. 
“Yes, do,” he scoffed, “that thing is packed 
in there so tight you couldn’t chop it out with 
an ax! We’ll probably stay right here the rest 
of the summer!” 
behind, mostly lint, I am sure. “See how fast 
we go,” I observed. “You can thank me for 
that. What this engine of yours has been suf¬ 
fering for was just a good wiping out.” 
“Don’t you speak to me,” said the Boy, with 
a mollified but still injured air. “Next time I 
bring you along, I’ll tie you to the bow. You 
are more trouble than Bob.” 
For Bob practically ran the boat, and how 
lie did love it! If the Boy’s nose pointed that 
way, there was Bob, glued right to his side. He 
would sit patiently by for hours while the 
Boy fixed, occasionally looking up into his face 
was .good was very good indeed, we would in 
these halcyon times fairly brim over with hos¬ 
pitality and good-will, and our hearts yearned 
over the blighted beings who had no motor 
boat. We longed to share our good fortune 
with the world in general, and our neighbors 
in particular. So one afternoon we called for a 
friend, and started for some treasure island. 
She came, lugging along a life preserver, much 
to the Boy’s amusement, while I carried a 
towel, as we had so often needed one on our 
former expeditions. After we were well on our 
way—out of all possible reach of help—I 
noticed that the floor was sloppy, and stooped 
to wipe it up. There was a sound like a screech 
of wild laughter, a spray of cold water dashed 
upward in our faces, then a sudden stop! Dazed 
“My, but I’m glad I brought this,” said our 
friend, scrambling into her life preserver. 
“What good is that?” asked the Boy, “We’ll 
not drown, we’ll only starve! You can't eat 
cork!” 
But she insisted that she would feel easier 
with it on, so on it went, and on it stayed until 
we finally landed her safely on her own dock. 
In the meantime they joined me in my efforts 
at the towel. I thought then, and still think, 
that the imp must have been running a spinning 
wheel inside, for it went in a rather small towel, 
and we cut and tore away yards and webs and 
acres of crash, to a running accompaniment of 
muttered wrath, before the last of it came out. 
Then the Boy very gingerly applied the gaso¬ 
lene, and we shot away, leaving a white swirl 
as if to say, “Any prospects?” When we were 
finally ready to start, he would caper about in 
great glee, and gallantly escort each one to a 
seat. Then he would station himself on the ex¬ 
treme point of the bow, and pose like a figure¬ 
head carved in wood until beyond reach of pos¬ 
sible observers. At least, this was his custom 
until one day he accidentally stumbled on a 
more impressive course. He had been off on 
business of his own—he had great trouble bury¬ 
ing his bones, owing to the scarcity of soil and 
abundance of obstinate roots—when the Boy 
got away without him, and was half across the 
river before Bob noticed it. Not an instant 
did he hesitate, but running to that part of the 
island where he could make the boat with the 
least effort—and he was a correct calculator— 
