him from in front of the mess-hall. As Nelson answered the hail he saw that Dan Speede was with Tom, and surmised that an introduction was in order. Speede shook hands, and said, with that irritating smile on his handsome face, that he was glad to know Nelson, and Nelson muttered something that sounded fairly amiable. Speede was getting on his nerves, for some reason or other; perhaps because he looked so confoundedly well pleased with himself and appeared to look on everybody else as a joke prepared for his special delectation.
“I know one or two Hillton fellows rather well,” Dan said, and he mentioned their names. One of them was a special friend of Nelson’s, but the fact didn’t lessen his irritation to any degree.
“We’re ferry-boys,” Dan continued. “Suppose we go over now? It isn’t quite nine, but no one ever waits, anyhow.”
“All right,” Nelson answered.
They left Tom, put the letters in the bag at Birch Hall, and went down the path. There wasn’t much conversation on Nelson’s part, but Dan rattled on carelessly from one thing to another without seeming to care whether his companion answered or not. At the landing he threw the bag into the motor-dory and climbed in, followed by Nelson.
“They’ve got quite a navy here,” observed the latter.
“Yep; steam-launch thirty feet long, motor-dory, four steel skiffs, three canoes, one punt, and two four-oared barges – only the barges aren’t down here yet. All aboard!”
Nelson took the lines and off they chugged straight for the corner of Bear Island, where the red-and-white banner of Camp Wickasaw floated above the trees.
“Hold her off a little more,” advised Dan; “there’s a shoal off the end of the island.” He was gazing steadily toward the landing there, and Nelson noticed that he looked disappointed. “Pshaw!” said Dan presently; “I guess they’ve gone on ahead.”
“Who?”
“The Wickasaw fellows. They have a little old sixteen-foot launch which they think can go. We usually get here in time to race them over.”
“Who beats?”
“We do – usually. Last time I raced with them this pesky dory stopped short half-way across. I thought they’d bust themselves laughing. That’s why I hoped we’d meet them this morning.”
“Too bad,” said Nelson. “What sort of a camp is Wickasaw?”
Dan shrugged his shoulders disdainfully. “No good. The fellows sleep between sheets and sing hymns every night before they go to bed. Besides, the worst of it is, they have women there.”
“Is it a big camp?”
“Only about twenty fellows this year.”
Presently Nelson asked another question: “Can you walk from the camp over to the village?”
“Yes, there’s a good road.” Dan nodded toward the end of the lake. “But it’s pretty near two miles, I guess. I never walked it.”
Crescent proved to be the tiniest sort of a settlement. There were no more than half-a-dozen buildings in sight. To the right of the landing was a high stone bridge, through which, as Dan explained, the water from the lake flowed on into Hipp’s Pond by way of a small river, and so, eventually, to Lake Winnipesaukee.
“You’d better go up front,” advised Dan, “and jump onto the landing when we get up to it. Take the painter with you.”
Nelson obeyed. The dory wormed its way in between a lot of rowboats, the propeller stopped, and Dan poised himself for a leap as the boat drifted in. When it was still some three or four feet away from the float he jumped. All would have gone well with him if at the very moment of his take-off the dory had not, for some unaccountable reason, suddenly started to back away. The result was that Nelson landed in five feet of water, with only his hands on the float. It was something of a task to crawl over the edge, but he managed it finally and sat down in a pool of water to get his breath. Then he glanced up and encountered Dan’s grinning countenance and understood. But he only said:
“That was farther than I thought, or else the boat rocked. Throw me the painter and I’ll pull you in.”
Dan, his smile broadening at what he considered Nelson’s innocence, tossed the rope and jumped ashore with the bag.
“I guess I’ll let you go up alone,” said Nelson. “I’m too wet to visit the metropolis.”
Dan said “All right,” and disappeared with the mail-bag. Nelson climbed back into the boat and started the motor. The sun was warm, and after taking his shoes off and emptying the water out of them he was quite comfortable. He even smiled once or twice, apparently at his thoughts. Presently Dan appeared around the corner of the nearest building, and Nelson quietly pushed the dory away from the landing.
“What did you start her up for?” asked Dan. “She’ll get all hot and smelly if you do that.”
“Oh, I just wanted to see if I could do it,” answered Nelson. “Pitch the bag in; I’ll catch it.”
Dan did so.
“You’ll have to bring her in, you know,” he said. “I can’t walk on water.”
“But you can walk on land, can’t you?” asked Nelson sweetly.
“Walk on – ? Hold on, you idiot, you’re backing her!”
“Must be something wrong with her,” replied Nelson calmly. He reached for the tiller-line, swung the dory’s nose toward the camp, shot the lever forward, and waved gaily at Dan. “It’s only two miles, you know,” he called, as the boat chugged away. “And it’s a good road!”
He looked back, expecting to hear Dan explode in a torrent of anger. But he didn’t; he merely stood there with his hands in his pockets and grinned. Half-way across the lake Nelson turned again and descried Dan’s form crossing the bridge on the road back to camp. Nelson winked gravely at the mail-bag.
CHAPTER IV
RELATES HOW NELSON BORROWED A LEAF FROM BOB, AND HOW DAN CRIED QUITS
There wasn’t much about gas-engines that Nelson didn’t know, for ever since he was old enough to walk his family had spent a portion at least of every summer at the shore, and of late years a gasoline-launch had been a feature of the vacation program. To be sure, a power-dory was rather a trifling thing after a thirty-six-foot cruising-launch, and the engine left much to be desired, but it got along pretty well, and Nelson wished he didn’t have to return to camp, but might turn the dory’s head up the lake and go cruising. But perhaps they would let him take the dory some other time. Tom Ferris was on the pier when the boat came within easy hail.
“Where’s Dan?” he asked.
“Coming back by road.”
“Road?”
“Yes; he decided to walk.”
“What for?” asked Tom incredulously.
Nelson shook his head. “Exercise, I guess,” he answered, as he steered the dory in under the boom. “Here! catch the bag, will you?”
It was evident that Tom was far from satisfied with the information
