the liveliest kind of a foot race. But I can't say that I enjoyed it; there was too much depending on it.
"Do you remember the last time we ate breakfast here?" said Joe, as he drew up the anchor while his companions shipped the oars and pulled up the creek toward the pond. "If my memory serves me, Matt Coyle made the mouth of this brook uncomfortably warm for us for a few minutes. What would we have done if Roy hadn't been smart enough to keep some of the potatoes out of that bag? I wonder where the old chap is now?"
"Probably he is a hundred miles away," answered Arthur. "You don't suppose that the people who live around the lake are going to let him stay here and steal them out of house and home, do you?"
"I am of the opinion that he and his worthless family were driven away from here long ago," said Roy. "But still I don't believe in trusting any thing to luck. We needn't go ashore unless we want to, and Matt can't bother us while we are lying at anchor. He's got no boat, and he isn't foolish enough to
