“Well, even if you did catch them you needn’t eat them all,” said Dan, wresting the skillet from his hands. “There are others, my boy. Pour me some more coffee, Bob, will you?” While they ate, with the smoke from the dying fire floating straight into the air and the last rays of the sun tinging the lake with rose-gold, the steamer from The Weirs passed a little way out, her cabin windows alight and her lanterns flashing red and green and white across the mirror-like surface. Bob waved the coffee-pot, incidentally splashing Tom’s face with the contents, and a group at the stern of the boat fluttered their handkerchiefs. Then the dishes were washed at the edge of the lake and the fire replenished. After that they took a stroll along the shore, pausing now and then to shy pebbles at the muskrats which, with little bullet-shaped heads just above the water, swam hither and thither, leaving long ripples behind them. Back to camp they wandered just at dark and sat for a while in the light of the little fire, and then they rolled themselves in their blankets and dropped off to sleep one by one, Tom’s unmusical snores alone breaking the silence. And so ended the first day of the trip; not an exciting one, to be sure, but one of the happiest of the summer. CHAPTER XVIII TELLS HOW THEY FOUND A DERELICT AND A COURSE DINNER, AND MET WITH SHIPWRECK When they awoke nature presented a far different aspect. A stiff, cold wind blew out of the northeast, the sky was hidden by dark clouds that hurried up the lake, and the water was of a leaden green hue and crested with whitecaps. They viewed the prospect gloomily while they tumbled into their clothes and lighted the morning fire. But a good breakfast put them in better spirits, and at half past eight they were in the canoes again battling with wind and waves. It was hard paddling, and to make it worse the spray drenched them before they had made a half mile of progress. Long before noon, in spite of many rests, they were ready to seek the shore. The wind increased with every hour and the heavy clouds drove faster and faster into the southwest. At half past ten they decided to land and so turned the bows of the canoes toward a fair-sized island that guarded the entrance to a bay. It was while making for this that Bob, who was in the leading canoe with Dan, pointed to an object which drifted along a quarter of a mile up the lake. “Looks like a boat, doesn’t it?” he asked. “It surely does,” Dan answered after studying it a moment. “But it seems to be empty. Let’s go and investigate.” So they shouted to the others and paddled away in the direction of the derelict. When they drew near they saw that it was a cedar rowboat, apparently a yacht’s tender. At the stern was the word “Elf.” It was almost half full of water and a crimson sweater washed to and fro in the bottom. There were no oars in it and the rowlocks were not in place.