FullReads

“What kind of milk do you want?”

“The best you have. Give me two quarts of it,” I replied.

“What do you want to do with it?” with an anxious tone, as if I might want to blow up something or burn her barns with it.

“Oh, drink it,” I answered, as if I frequently put milk to that use.

“Well, I suppose I can get you some;” and she presently reappeared with swimming pail, with those little yellow flakes floating about upon it that one likes to see.

I passed several low dams the second day, but had no trouble. I dismounted and stood upon the apron, and the boat, with plenty of line, came over as lightly as a chip, and swung around in the eddy below like a steed that knows its master. In the afternoon, while slowly drifting down a long eddy, the moist southwest wind brought me the welcome odor of strawberries, and running ashore by a meadow, a short distance below, I was soon parting the daisies and filling my cup with the dead-ripe fruit. Berries, be they red, blue, or black, seem like a special providence to the camper-out; they are luxuries he has not counted on, and I prized these accordingly. Later in the day it threatened rain, and I drew up to shore under the shelter of some thick overhanging hemlocks, and proceeded to eat my berries and milk, glad of an excuse not to delay my lunch longer. While tarrying here I heard young voices upstream, and looking in that direction saw two boys coming down the rapids on rude floats. They were racing along at a lively pace, each with a pole in his hand, dexterously avoiding the rocks and the breakers, and schooling themselves thus early in the duties and perils of the raftsmen. As they saw me one observed to the other, —

“There is the man we saw go by when we were building our floats. If we had known he was coming so far, maybe we could have got him to give us a ride.”

They drew near, guided their crafts to shore beside me, and tied up, their poles answering for hawsers. They proved to be Johnny and Denny Dwire, aged ten and twelve. They were friendly boys, and though not a bit bashful were not a bit impertinent. And Johnny, who did the most of the talking, had such a sweet, musical voice; it was like a bird’s. It seems Denny had run away, a day or two before, to his uncle’s, five miles above, and Johnny had been after him, and was bringing his prisoner home on a float; and it was hard to tell which was enjoying the fun most, the captor or the captured.

“Why did you run away?” said I to Denny.

“Oh, ’cause,” replied he, with an air which said plainly, “The reasons are too numerous to mention.”

“Boys, you know, will do so, sometimes,” said Johnny, and he smiled upon his brother in a way that made me think they had a very good understanding upon the subject.

They could both swim, yet their floats looked very perilous,–three pieces of old plank or slabs, with two cross-pieces and a fragment of a board for a rider, and made without nails or withes.

“In some places,” said Johnny, “one plank was here and another off there, but we managed, somehow, to keep atop of them.”

“Let’s leave our floats here, and ride with him the rest of the way,” said one to the other.

“All right; may we, mister? “

I assented, and we were soon afloat again. How they enjoyed the passage; how smooth it was; how the boat glided along; how quickly she felt the paddle! They admired her much; they praised my steersmanship; they praised my fish-pole and all my fixings down to my hateful rubber boots. When we stuck on the rifts, as we did several times, they leaped out quickly, with their bare feet and legs, and pushed us off.