“Sure, and I bet you’ll like Black Lake, too; it’s all kind of dark all around it and you can see the stars in it.” “I wish half of them were in it,” laughed Townsend. “Posy Brazen and—” “They’re inserted in it,” said Pee-wee. “You mean inverted in it,” Townsend said. “Well, we’ll be there to-morrow if all goes well. As long as we can’t get Liz till five o’clock we’ll camp to-night, what do you say?” “I say yop,” said Pee-wee. “Yop it is then,” said Townsend. “Say it with yops.” “Maybe we’ll have another dandy delay too, hey?” said Pee-wee. “Very likely,” said Townsend. “I wouldn’t care to knock Liz, though she seems to be knocking herself.” “Is it a—a—loose bearing?” Pee-wee asked hopefully. “I can’t promise you that,” said Townsend; “but she’s knocking. I hope it’ll be a five-cent repair, if any. Otherwise we’ll have to use a couple of dozen resources.” They found a little cottage down by the river, occupied by an old woman who hobbled out with a cane to look at them. She was smoking a pipe and looked very funny. She talked with such an Irish brogue that they could hardly understand her but they made out from what she said that an old punt which was drawn up on the shore belonged to no one in particular. It had belonged to “Meemon” they gathered, and they supposed that Meemon was her departed husband. She seemed perfectly willing that they should use it and watched them with curious intentness as Townsend rowed out with the pair of old broken oars which had been leaning against a tree nearby. Then she hobbled into the house again, puffing furiously. It seemed as if she were glad for the slight diversion. They rowed all the way across the river, in sight of the great Poughkeepsie bridge. At the Poughkeepsie wharf, a big Hudson River boat was admitting passengers and the boys rowed about near it while the passengers waved to them, and one man threw an apple which Pee-wee caught. Girls, too, from the security of the mammoth decks, called to the tiny craft below, and giggled and chatted with Townsend as he rested on his oars. He might have looked rather attractive from up there; at all events, the usual pleasantries were exchanged. “Come on down.” “No, you come up.” “No, you come down.” “No, you come up.” “Catch this?” Pee-wee missed a piece of candy. “You can’t throw,” he shouted. “You can’t catch,” called a girl. “Doesn’t he look little down there?” she said to her companions. Sound travels plainly over water and Pee-wee heard them. “It’s on account of the distance,” he shouted. “If we come down will you take us for a row?” (giggling). “Positively,” said Townsend (more giggling). And so on, and so on. They flopped lazily around on the river until mid-afternoon, when Townsend realized to his surprise that the ebbing tide had carried them far down-stream. It was aided and abetted now by a freshening breeze against which it was almost hopeless to struggle. Rowing against wind and tide is a thankless task.