ft for home
promising to rig up a paddle in place of the one Nugget had lost, and
also to bring him an old hat.

A few moments later the Jolly Rovers were sleeping soundly in the tent,
and the dying camp fire was gleaming on the muddy surface of the creek.
Tuesday was a clear, sunny day, but the boys decided to defer their
departure until the next morning. Ned and Nugget felt the need of a
little rest.

After breakfast Jonas Packer returned, bringing quite a respectable
paddle on which he had been working since daybreak, and a broad brimmed
straw hat, which Nugget regarded as a very poor substitute for his trim
yachting cap.

Harvest work required the good natured farmer's immediate return. The
boys parted from him with genuine regret, and only with the greatest
difficulty could they induce him to accept pay for the paddle--the very
least of the services he had rendered them.

The greater part of the day was spent in furbishing up clothes and camp
equipments and scrubbing the collected dirt and scum of three weeks from
the decks and sides of the canoes. The boys realized that the cruise was
about ended, and they hoped by the aid of the high water and an early
start to reach home on the morrow.

There was no longer any temptation to linger by the way, since the lower
reaches of the creek with which they had been familiar for some years
past, were only a few miles distant. The chief charm of canoeing is to
explore strange waters.

The Jolly Rovers were up bright and early on Wednesday morning, and in
default of bread or crackers they made some cakes out of flour and
water, and relished them, too. It was a strange coincidence that the
provisions should have lasted just until this time. With the exception
of a little oatmeal the jars were quite empty.

About half past seven the Pioneer led the way down stream, proudly
shaking the faded pennant to the breeze, and soon the mouth of Indian
Cave was far behind. The creek was now barely a foot above its normal
level, but this was quite sufficient to make a swift current, and the
mile after mile, bend after bend fell behind the flashing paddles of the
Jolly Rovers.

At ten o'clock they reached the first familiar landmark--Roop's Dam--and
the home coming began to seem a reality indeed. The Susquehanna was six
miles distant as the crow flies, but almost thrice six by the snaky
curvatures of the channel down which they were making their way.

Midway on the breast of the