iness, and climbed the river slowly but surely. The only incident of moment occurred on the twentieth when, having stopped for dinner at a little village and moored to the side of a ferry slip, the sign on a neighboring building caught Roy’s eye.
“Paint, Varnish, Wall Paper,” announced the sign. He pointed it out to the others, and after dinner they delayed the voyage for the better part of an hour while the name on the bow of the boat was changed from Jolly Roger to Slow Poke. Dick did the new lettering, and if it wasn’t exactly perfect it, at least, answered its purpose. In the course of the afternoon they were forced to stop and take on gasolene, and Dick improved the opportunity to lay in a new store of cylinder oil. For the rest of that day, whenever he disappeared they had only to peek in at the door of the engine-room to find him spattering oil lovingly and enthusiastically over the engine and adjacent territory.
“It isn’t that I mind the expense so much,” muttered Chub, “but I hate to think what would happen if any one carelessly dropped a match in this part of the boat. She’s so saturated with
