where. Once we get to that all we’ve got to do is to follow it till we find the Jolly—find the Slow Poke,” said Dick, encouragingly.
“And which way shall we walk, upstream or down?” Chub inquired. Dick looked a trifle crestfallen for an instant. Then,
“We can decide that when we get there,” he said. “Anyhow, don’t let’s spend the night here. I’m as hungry as a bear.”
“Hungry!” muttered Chub, bitterly. “So am I! Well, come along.”
They crossed the field, a particularly moist and “squashy” one, and entered more woods. By this time, although it was still light enough in the open, it was difficult to see much in the forest, and they stumbled over stumps and wandered into blackberry thickets every few steps.
“A chap needs a suit of chain armor for this sort of thing,” said Roy.
“‘This is the forest primeval,’” murmured Chub, picking himself out of a bush. “It’s evil, anyhow.”
“Here it is,” cried Dick, who had found fewer pitfalls and had taken the lead. “Here it is!”
“The boat?” asked Roy, eagerly.
