Page:Castlemon--Joe Wayring at Home.djvu/333



S I could not comply with my friend's invitation to "come on", I was obliged to wait until Joe had exchanged his heavy boots for the buckskin moccasins he always wore whenever he went anywhere with the canoe. This being done, we pushed away from the skiff, and moved leisurely up the pond toward the perch hole, Joe whistling merrily as he plied the paddle. I do not think he was quite so light-hearted when he came back.

Half an hour's paddling sufficed to bring us to our destination. If I hadn't heard Joe say that the perch hole was located in the mouth of a creek, I should not have known it, for it looked to me more like an arm of the pond which set back into the land. When I was taken from my case, after the anchor had been dropped overboard, I took note of the fact that