Whereupon they were subjected to a chorus of angry jeers and hoots. That raised their spirits still higher and they shot under the bridge at Crescent as happy a quartet as ever paddled their own--or any one else’s--canoe. There was very little wind and what there was favored their progress. Little of interest happened during the voyage to the head of Hipp’s Pond. By that time they were all glad to lay down the paddles and stretch tired arms and legs. From the pond across to the bay was a matter of two miles over a well-traveled trail. After a few minutes of rest the outfit was apportioned and they set out. Dan carried one canoe and Bob the other, and Nelson and Tom shared the luggage. A seventy-pound canoe weighs one hundred pounds at the beginning of the carry, two hundred at the end of the first half mile, and something like a ton at the end of the mile. After that it gains four tons every three hundred yards. That’s one reason it took the party just short of an hour and a half to cover that two miles. They changed burdens frequently, but, even so, when Nelson suggested that they return all the way by water and train, cutting out the present feature of the trip, they were unanimous in favor of the suggestion. “I never knew a canoe weighed so much,” grunted Dan, stumbling over a log. “I’ll bet the Chicora isn’t half so heavy as this pesky thing!” “Wish we’d brought only one of them,” said Tom, who was struggling with the other. “Don’t see what we needed two for. You fellows wouldn’t let me bring things that were really necessary, but you had to saddle us with a canoe that isn’t needed at all.” “Dry up, Tommy,” said Nelson. “You’re doing finely, if only you’d lift your feet now and then. Talking about unnecessary things, now, I don’t see what you have two feet for; one of them is big enough for any ordinary person. Look out there! I told you so!” Thereupon burdens were set down, not unwillingly, while the canoe was lifted off of the prostrate form of Tom and balanced over his shoulders again. “Well, we’re almost there,” said Bob encouragingly. “And this is the last time we’ll have to lug things.” “Almost there!” grumbled Tom. “You’ve been saying that ever since we started. Don’t believe there is any ‘there’!” But there was, and presently it came into sight, a narrow strip of blue water just barely ruffled in the breeze. When they reached the bank they laid aside their loads and stretched themselves out gratefully in the shade. “Hooray!” murmured Dan. “Me too,” sighed Tom. Bob, who appeared the least fatigued of the party, got out the tin cup and served drinking water and was called blessed. Nelson took the camera from the case and snapped it several times at the recumbent forms. Then the canoes were slipped into the water and the luggage arranged again. This time Nelson and Bob paddled together, and Dan and Tom. As they started away Tom waved his arm politely toward the trail through which they had journeyed.