"I surely feel better," said Pod. "Gee, when I woke up, though! I hate to think about it."

"Don't," said Fleet, laconically.

"I don't need your advice," said Pod. "What I need is a cup of coffee."

"We all need that," said Chot.

"And some bread and jam," said Fleet, smacking his lips.

"Who ever heard of bread and jam for breakfast?" asked Tom.

"I have," a.s.serted Fleet.

"That's on the lunch or dinner bill of fare," said Pod.

"No; it's on the Fleet Kenby bill of fare," said that worthy, "and that means any time of the day or night the spirit moves me."

"Fleet's right," said Chot. "When it comes to eating, he moves both day and night. Why, I've known him to wake up in the night with a craving for pickles."

"Wish I had a pickle now," said Fleet.

"Oh, you do?" said Chot. "Well, there happens to be a bottle in your canoe. We'll open it."

"Why-er-never mind," said Fleet. "I-I think I'd rather save the pickles for later in the day."

"Bluffer!" cried Pod.

"You're the bluffer!" replied Fleet, and gave chase to the little fellow. He caught him about fifty yards from the knoll, then the two ran a foot race back to camp, Pod winning by a narrow margin.

"You can't run, you big porpoise," he taunted.

"Maybe not," was Fleet's reply, "but I can eat better now. I needed a little violent exercise."

The boys soon sat down to bread, cold beans and coffee-not a very substantial meal, but one eminently satisfactory when campers-out wake up hungry.

Fifteen minutes after the meal was over everything was packed into the canoes and the boys again shoved off into the river and headed up stream.

Pod continued to emit a few groans at intervals, but after a while paddling became easier, and the groans finally ceased. The boys set an easy pace for the little fellow, and the canoes turned bend after bend of the mighty river. Catskill was soon pa.s.sed, then Hudson on the opposite side, and soon Athens came into view. The boys soon rounded a big bend above Athens, and with the sun behind a cloud and all feeling in fine fettle, Fleet proposed a race.

"I'd hate to race you," said Pod.

"Why?"

"Because you take the sting of defeat too hard."

"Now, you're joking again. What do you other fellows say? Shall we race?"

"I'm willing," said Chot.

"And I," said Tom.

"Well, I hope you fellows will wait for me when you've finished-that's all I've got to say," said Pod.

"See that cat-boat moored to the wharf on the east sh.o.r.e?" asked Chot.

The boys nodded.

"We'll race till we're even with that, and the winner has to set them up at the first place we strike ice cream soda."

"The loser, you mean," said Fleet. "I don't want to win this race and set them up in the bargain."

"Well, the loser, then," said Chot, winking at Tom.

Pod, of course, was not in the race. He was too inexperienced as yet to push his canoe at such a rapid pace, even though he could have stood the strain.

Chot and Tom removed the cushions from their canoes, and fitted in a cross-piece, on which they sat with their feet braced well in under.

Fleet, however, could not manage his double-bladed paddle in this fashion, and continued to sit on his cushion, his feet braced out in front of him.

Pod watched the boys line up, and when all were even gave the word to go. Three paddles dipped simultaneously into the water and the canoes shot away up the river at a rapid pace. Pod paddled leisurely along in their wake, they having agreed to wait until he came up with them.

Tom took the lead at the start, with Fleet second and Chot last. The cat-boat to which they were racing was perhaps a mile up stream.

Fleet was puffing from his exertion at the end of a half-mile, but had the satisfaction of knowing that he led his chums by a full length. The big double paddle fell on either side with rhythmic precision. But Fleet was doomed to disappointment, for when within a quarter of a mile of the finish, both Chot and Tom paddled rapidly past him, smiled into his face, and crossed the finish line neck and neck.

"That was a put up job," said Fleet. "But as long as the winner sets them up, I don't care."

"But the winner doesn't set them up," said Chot. "You remember we changed that to the loser at your suggestion."

"That's so; we did," Fleet reluctantly admitted, after a moment's thought. "In other words, little Fleetsy gets the warm end of the proposition all around."

"That's about the size of it," said Tom.

"Methinks I see a village ahead. Thinkest thou, Tomsy, couldst get ice cream sodas there?" asked Chot.

"Ay, ay, me lord," responded Tom, in a mock serious voice.

They paddled just enough to keep the canoes from drifting with the current down stream, and soon Pod caught up with them.

"Hope I get in on the ice cream soda," he said.

"Of course," said Chot. "Fleet has very kindly agreed to furnish all we can drink."

"I have not," said Fleet. "Once around, if you please. After that, someone else foots the bill."

Half an hour later they landed at a small village on the west bank, and were lucky enough to strike a combination soda fountain, drug store and post-office right on the river front. They chipped in a nickel apiece to get a boy to watch their canoes, then proceeded to drink ice cream soda to their hearts' content. It was nearly noon, so the boys concluded to buy some sandwiches for lunch, which would be eaten in the canoes farther up the river. Then they could provide a heavier meal at night.

Fleet was reluctant to agree, believing that a juicy steak, some French fried potatoes and an omelet would set better on his stomach than a sandwich, but his chums argued him out of this.

"You can't paddle well on a full stomach," said Chot.