Out into the sunlit Chelton river swung the smart motor boat with Cora at the wheel. The sun glinted on the water, it reflected from the polished bra.s.s rail and the white forward deck of the craft, it sparkled from the bra.s.s letters of the name-_Corbelbes_, and danced in javelins of light on the little waves.

The _Corbelbes_ was the latest name of the motor boat which had been variously christened at times. The craft was owned jointly by Cora, Belle and Bess, and in accordance with their agreement they had in turn the privilege of naming it, such name to be used during a whole season.

In turn the girls had adopted various more or less cla.s.sical nomenclature. Each one's time having expired, it came to Cora again, and she confessed that she did not know what to select.

"Let me name the boat for you," suggested Jack. "I've thought of a swell name."

"Something ridiculous, I'm sure of that," ventured Cora.

"No, something really cla.s.sy. How's this," and Jack quickly printed on a piece of paper the name now glinting on either bow of the craft.

"_Corbelbes_," repeated his sister. "That isn't half bad. What is it, Spanish or Latin?"

"It's French for curling iron and face powder," laughed Jack.

"You mean thing!"

"No, it isn't, Sis. Don't you see, it's the first part of the names of all three of you."

"Oh, so it is." Cora was smiling now.

"What better name could you have for a boat?" Jack demanded. "It's something distinctive and individual."

Cora and her chums agreed with him, and the motor boat became the _Corbelbes_, and as such had remained.

"Does she steer all right, Cora, with the new tiller ropes on?" asked Jack, as he lolled lazily on one of the cushioned lockers, which, at night, could be turned into comfortable bunks.

"A bit stiff," responded his sister.

"Well, the ropes will stretch, after they've been used a bit, so it's just as well to have them tight now. You get quicker action when you turn the wheel, though the river will not be crowded after we get up a way."

Bess, Belle and Hazel busied themselves setting to rights their various possessions in the little cabin, and then they sat out in the wicker chairs in the after part of the craft, where Jack and Walter were. Paul seemed to find entertainment up in the bow with Cora.

"Where are the eats?" demanded Walter, when they had been under way for perhaps a half hour. "Didn't I see you smuggling something on board, Bess?"

"Eats? Now?" cried Jack. "And if you saw Bess have anything it was a box of chocolates."

"It was not, Jack Kimball!" retorted the pretty, plump twin. "I've given up chocolates."

"For how long?" he teased.

"For ever. I'm eating lime drops and lemon drops now. Have some?"

"I knew I saw you have something," declared Walter. "Why, they're chocolates after all!" he went on, as he helped himself to what Bess offered.

"I know they are, but the chocolate coating is very thin," she said.

"They're sour inside."

"Sort of Christian Science treatment," remarked Jack. "Bess couldn't altogether give up her chocolate, so she takes it in homeopathic doses.

Whew! they _are_ sour!" he cried, as he bit into one of the candies, making a wry face.

"Fruit acids make one thin, I read," Bess stated, "so I had these made to order."

"Bess Robinson, you never did!" voiced her sister in surprised accents.

"Why shouldn't I? They didn't cost any more than the others. All the candy shop did was to dip their regular lime and lemon drops into chocolate for me."

"Well!" exclaimed Belle. "Did you hear that, Cora?"

There was no reply from the girl at the wheel. She and Paul were busy talking.

"Let her alone," urged Bess. "She knows about my candy. I told her."

"Yes, don't disturb 'em," agreed Walter. "But I want something more substantial than candy. Didn't you bring anything else, Bess?"

"Yes, we have a nice lunch, but I'm not going to have you spoil your appet.i.te by eating now," declared Belle.

"You don't know how hard it is to spoil his appet.i.te," laughed Jack.

"I've tried several times to find out just where the vanishing point is, but I haven't succeeded. I've begun to believe that his appet.i.te is like the poor-always with us-or him."

"Base traitor!" retorted Walter, reaching out to punch Jack, but finding him too far away he did not exert himself.

The Chelton river was a busy place in the neighborhood of the town where our friends lived. On the way up the _Corbelbes_ pa.s.sed a number of craft, some of them slow-moving coal or grain barges, others pa.s.senger steamers, and not a few pleasure craft. Those in charge of the latter recognized the _Corbelbes_ and saluted her with the regulation three whistles, which Cora returned.

"We couldn't have had a better day," remarked Paul, as he sat beside Cora.

"No, it's perfect. If the weather only behaves when we get to camp we'll be in all sorts of ways obliged to it."

"Oh, I guess it will," was the comment. "Look out for that fellow, Cora.

He doesn't seem to know which way he wants to go."

"I've been noticing him," and Cora looked at a man in a rowboat who was yawing from side to side as though unfamiliar with the proper method of navigation.

Cora blew the whistle sharply as the man seemed about to cross her bows, and this further confused him so that he was really in danger of being run down.

"Look out!" cried Paul again, instinctively, though he knew Cora knew how to manage the boat.

And she proved that she did by quickly reversing the propeller, while a series of sharp blasts informed any craft coming astern to look out for themselves.

"What's the matter with you?" demanded Paul, as the _Corbelbes_ pa.s.sed the man in the rowboat. "You ought to take lessons before you come out on the river."

The man looked frightened but did not answer, pulling awkwardly away.

"What are you trying to do, Cora?" demanded Jack. "Have an accident before we're fairly started? Better let me steer."

"I will not, indeed! It wasn't my fault!"

"I should say not!" cried Paul. "That fellow was a dub!"