Though
it was not quite plain whether they referred to the new yell,
or to the skilful manner in which the boys now brought their craft
in. At a single "Ugh!" from Prescott they ceased paddling. Dick,
with two or three turns of his own paddle, brought the canoe in
gently against the float. Now Dave and Dick held the canoe to
the float with their paddles while the other young Indians, one
at a time, stepped out. Those who had landed now bent over, holding
the gunwale gently while Dave, first, and then Dick, stepped to
the float.
"Up with it, braves! Out with it!" cried Dick. The canoe, grasped
by twelve hands, was drawn up on to the float, where its wet hull
lay glistening in the bright July sunlight.
"You never told us you were coming up here!" cried Laura Bentley,
half reproachfully.
"If you're bored at seeing us," proposed Dick, smilingly, "we'll
launch our bark and speed away again."
"Of course we're not bored," protested Belle Meade. "But why
couldn't you tell us you were coming?"
"We weren't sure of it until late Sunday afternoon," Dave assured
her. "Some of us had to do some coaxing at home before we got
permission."
"How did you get that big canoe here?" Clara Marshall asked.
"Don't you see the gasoline engine and the folded white wings
inside the canoe?" asked Tom Reade gravely. "We can use it either
as a canoe or as an airship."
Three or four of the girls, Clara at their head, stepped forward
to look for engine and "wings," then stepped back, laughing.
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