I found that the troop had done a good day’s work caulking the hull up and slapping a couple of coats of copper paint on it, while the tide was out. So then we decided that as long as the tide was going down, we’d float her down with it to the Bridgeboro River and then wait for the up tide to float her upstream to Bridgeboro. We decided that we’d rather fix her up in Bridgeboro. So you see that this chapter is about the tide, too. Mr. Ellsworth and Mr. Donnelle both told me that I must have plenty of movement in my story, so I guess the tide’s a good character for a story, because it’s always moving. Well, you ought to have seen those fellows when I sailed in shouting that I was _Weetonka_, the famous Indian chief. Doc Carson dropped his paint brush on Connie Bennett and he was splashed all over with copper paint—good night! “Where did you get that thing,” Pee-wee shouted, “it looks like a horse’s trough.” “You have to part your hair in the middle to ride in it, I can tell you that,” I told him. “Where were you all the time?” he said. “I was captured by a band of Apaches,” I said. “What kind of a band?” Pee-wee yelled. “A brass band,” I told him; “a brass band of Apaches.” “You make me sick!” he said, kind of disgusted. “They took me to their village and were going to burn me at the stake, only the butcher didn’t bring it, then they decided they’d chop me to pieces only the butcher didn’t bring the chops——” Oh, boy! you should have seen that kid. He fired a wet bailing sponge at me and I dodged it and it hit one of his own patrol—kerflop! I guess you’ll think all us fellows are crazy, especially me. I should worry. I told them I escaped in the canoe and all that kind of stuff, but at last I told them the real story and you can bet they were glad I was saved. They all said I had a narrow escape, and I admit it was only about an inch wide. Now, I have to tell you about how we floated the house-boat down to Bridgeboro River, and maybe you’d better look at the map, hey? Oh, but first I want to tell you about the name we gave it. Some name! We christened it with a bottle of mosquito dope. Its regular name was all rubbed off, so we decided we’d vote on a new name. This is the way we fixed it. Each patrol thought of a name and then we mixed the three names up and made one name out of them. Then you just add a little sugar and serve. The Ravens voted the name _Sprite_, the Elks voted the name _Fly_ and the Silver Foxes voted the name _Weetonka_, on account of me. Then we wrote all these letters down and mixed them all up and arranged them every which way, till we got this name: RESOPEKITWAFTENLY Oh, boy, some laugh we had over that name. We were all sitting around in the two cabin rooms and believe me, it was some giggling match. “It sounds like a Bolsheviki name,” Westy Martin said.