shotgun, no firearms were
to be taken along. The boys demurred to this at first, but were finally
won over by Ned's sensible arguments. Canoeists cruising through a
peaceful country seldom need weapons of defense.

CHAPTER III

THE CRUISE BEGINS

The first day of July fell on Thursday, and that afternoon the boxes
containing the dishes, provisions and other traps, and the four canoes
carefully wrapped in coffee sacking, were shipped to Oakville by
freight.

On the following morning the Jolly Rovers departed by the seven o'clock
train, and a ride of an hour and a half through the beautiful Cumberland
Valley brought them to their destination. The canoes were found to be in
good condition, and after a brief delay the services of a farmer and his
team were engaged.

The inhabitants of the little village gazed with wonder and curiosity on
the strange procession as it passed along the straggling street. The
boxes and the gayly painted canoes completely filled the bed of the
wagon. Nugget was perched on the seat beside the farmer, resplendent in
his brown uniform. He held the pennant in his right hand, and waved it
in the breeze from time to time.

The others marched with military precision behind the wagon. Randy bore
his gun on his shoulder, and Ned and Clay carried paddles. All three
wore knickerbockers and Norfolk jackets, and their faces were protected
from the sun by canvas helmets with large visors.

For two miles and a half the road wound through a hilly, open country.
Then it dipped into a wooded ravine, turned aside to follow a barely
perceptible path through a heavy forest, and finally ended at a fording
on the edge of the Conodoguinet.

"Here you are, boys," cried the farmer, as he pulled up his horses
within a few feet of the water. "I reckon you couldn't have a better day
for your start. The creek's in prime condition, too."

Nugget leaped down from the wagon and joined his companions. For a
moment or two the boys quite forgot the work that had to be done.

With exclamations of delight they gazed on the narrow blue channel as it
poured swiftly around a bend in the woods above and vanished from sight
beneath the crooked arches of a mossy stone bridge a quarter of a mile
below. The opposite shore was rocky and lined with pine trees, and over
their tops could be seen against the horizon the jagged crest line of
the Kittatinny Mountains.

"Come on now and get to work," said Ned finally. "My arms