addled
a canoe from the Malta boathouse clear to High Bridge and back. And I
didn't raise a single blister."

"I'll bet you wore gloves," said Clay mockingly.

Nugget flushed with anger and confusion, but said nothing.

"It's time to stop that now, Clay," said Ned authoratively. "If Nugget
wants to go along I don't see any serious objections. No doubt the trip
will do him lots of good. But that question can be settled later. Give
us some light, Randy, and I'll show you what I've got here."

CHAPTER II

PLANNING THE TRIP

It was not yet dark outside but Randy lit the handsome brass lamp that
stood on the square oaken table, and the yellow glow shone into every
corner of the room.

The apartment was furnished in the manner most dear to the hearts of
boys. The polished floor was strewn with soft rugs, and the walls were
hung with pictures and amateur photographs. In the corners and over the
mantels were fencing foils and masks, fishing rods, baseball bats,
creels, and several pairs of crossed canoe paddles which showed traces
of hard usage.

When the boys had dragged chairs to the table and seated themselves, Ned
drew a little bunch of papers from his pocket, and opened them with a
flourish.

"When the question of a canoe trip came up a month ago," he began, "I
told you it would be better fun to cruise on some small stream than on
the Susquehanna. I knew what I was talking about, because I paddled the
whole distance last year, from Lake Otsego to the bay.

"I suggested the Conodoguinet Creek as the best cruising ground we
could find around here, and promised to get all the information about it
I could. I have kept my promise.

"Here is a map of the Cumberland Valley on a large scale, showing the
entire course of the creek, and all its windings. You can examine that
at your leisure. First I want to tell you what I have learned.

"Of course you knew that the Conodoguinet was about the most crooked
stream in existence. We have evidence enough of that near home. You
remember the big bend above Oyster's Dam--three miles around, and one
field's length across. Well, there are bigger bends than that further up
the valley.

"From the mouth of the creek to Carlile is just eighteen miles in a
straight line. By the windings of the creek it is ninety miles. The
distance was accurately measured and surveyed a number of years ago.

"Oakville is twenty miles beyond Carlile, and from there I propose that
we shoul