The next few days were happy ones for the boys from Winton, for the Creightons extended every hospitality that lay in their power. Riding horseback, going to the village in the spring wagon, hoeing corn and potatoes in the big garden back of the farm house, and the consuming of practically all the good things Mrs. Creighton put before them—especially by Fleet—served to make the time pass quickly.

One day, however, Chot gave notice that the journey was to be resumed the following morning, and the other boys with a sigh of regret, packed their belongings into the canoes and made ready to shove off into the lake at daybreak.

Greatly to their satisfaction Bert, after a short talk with his parents, announced his intention of going with them.

“That’s fine,” said Chot. “I’ve been hating to ask you because I was sure you were going to say you could not go.”

So Bert’s canoe was packed with a few things he most desired to carry, and placed in the water at the edge of the lake with the others before the boys went to bed that night.

When they arose, the sun was just peeping over the hill-top. They found that Mrs. Creighton had prepared one of her fine breakfasts of wheat cakes and maple syrup, with coffee and pure cream on the side, and the way they ate and the comments they made were very gratifying to her. She would miss their smiling faces and good appetites, she told them, as they were leaving.

“There is nothing so inspiring to the woman who prepares a meal as to have people eat it and know they enjoy it,” said she.

The boys assured her that they had never had better things to eat in their lives, and after a hearty handshake all around, with Mr. and Mrs. Creighton standing on the little wharf, waving their hands, the five canoes pushed off and went skimming over the water to the northward.

“We’ll keep along the east shore for a while,” said Bert, “until we see how much of a breeze is coming up to-day. It gets pretty rough out in the middle there sometimes—rough for canoes, I mean.”

They accepted his advice, knowing that he was familiar with every corner of the lake, and paddled easily for nothing was to be gained by hurrying.

Bert showed himself to be a fine canoeist. They all admired his long, graceful stroke with the single blade. His canoe was of the Canadian pattern, much like those owned by Chot, Tom and Pod, and of about the same size.

“Reminds me of the Spanish Armada, going into battle,” said Fleet, as he cast his eye over the little squadron. “Eh, how about it, Admiral Duncan?”

“Ay, ay, Christopher Columbus. Shift your lee bow until you sight Hurricane Island, then hold a straight course for Cape Cod light. Don’t give up the ship until we have met the enemy and they are ours. Reply by wireless if you receive my message distinctly.”

“Message received distinctly,” said Fleet “England expects every man to do his duty.”

“Speaking of England,” said Bert, “when we are going up Lake Champlain I’ll show you where McDonough fought his famous battle in 1814.”

“That will be interesting,” said Tom. “I have always admired the way he riddled the English fleet. I don’t believe there has ever been a naval battle in which greater wisdom was displayed by the commanding officers than in the battle of Plattsburg Bay.”

“As far as battles go,” said Chot, “this is a famous locality. All during the colonial days and even in the War of the Revolution, this was a familiar stamping ground for the soldiers of America, England and France, to say nothing of the Indians.”

“That’s so. Fort Ticonderoga must be around here somewhere,” said Pod.

“I doubt if we shall see old Ticonderoga,” said Bert. “It will be some miles below us when we enter Lake Champlain, and we can not visit it without losing considerable time.”

“And we don’t want to do that,” said Fleet. “I’m anxious to get into the old St Lawrence.”

“You won’t be so anxious by the time you’re shooting some of the rapids,” said Tom. “I’m not so sure but I shall be in favor of a portage around several spots in that stream.”

“Humph! I’m not afraid,” said Fleet.

“Nor am I,” Tom replied. “But I don’t see any use in risking our necks, and maybe turning our trip into a funeral, when we can be happy by being careful.”

“Well, that’s a matter we can decide when we come to it,” said Chot.

In the early afternoon the boys pulled in to the shore and ate lunch in a shady nook. Many good things had been placed in the canoes by Mrs. Creighton, and the boys felt especially grateful for them now that they were leaving the Creighton farm behind, and would soon have only the memory of the things they had eaten there.

“Apple butter!” cried Fleet, as he unscrewed the lid to a glass jar, and took a generous spoonful of the contents. “Yum, yum! I tell you, fellows, this is what I call living high.”

The others were too busy eating to reply, and Fleet munched his bread and apple butter in silence.

Lunch over, they pushed out into lake again. They were in the narrower portion now, which stretched ahead for some twenty miles. The breeze was from the south and very light, and the boys did not hesitate to paddle out into the lake where, with the bows still headed northward, they skimmed along at a rapid pace. The sun soon went behind a cloud, and as evening approached and the air grew cooler, the boys increased their pace.

They were well up the lake by dark, with the prospects of being in Lake Champlain by noon of the following day.

Camp was made, as usual, under a clump of trees, the tent was stretched, and a small fire was kindled for coffee. The fire was allowed to burn until bed time, because the moon was not up and the darkness was intense. It was nine o’clock when they sought their blankets, feeling tired from the exertions of the day. Ten minutes later they were all asleep.

Shortly after midnight, they were awakened by what seemed an unearthly noise. Chot was the first to realize that the silence of the camp had been invaded by some sort of a man or beast, and sitting up he rubbed his eyes and stared about him. The moon was just showing signs of rising, and a pale glow suffused the lake and shore, but in the deep shadows of the trees little could be seen, as yet, and as Chot continued to gaze about him, the trees and bushes began to assume fantastic shapes.

“Wonder if I’ve been dreaming?” he muttered. “Guess I’ll wake the other fellows, and we’ll have a look around.”

Bert and Fleet were already awake, and Tom and Pod were quickly aroused and advised to keep still.

“What’s the matter?” whispered Pod, who began to tremble, at being aroused from his sleep in such a manner.

“There’s something or somebody in the camp,” Chot replied, in a low tone. “Don’t say a word, fellows. Just sit here and watch. In ten minutes the moon will be over that hill and shining right through the trees. Then we can see what’s going on.”

Huddled in a little group, Pod’s heart beating a tattoo, the boys waited for the appearance of Old Luna. They were not afraid, these fellows, but no one wants to go after an unseen enemy in the dark, and they were merely taking the best means to discover the intruder, and to handle the situation in the best way that suggested itself.

Gradually the world grew lighter, and finally the moon poked its golden rim over the distant hill, then farther and farther until the light finally burst over the land with a brilliant radiance.

Then, suddenly, Chot burst into a roar of laughter.

“What’s the matter?” cried the others.

“Matter?” he replied. “Can’t you see what startled me?” and following the direction of his finger, they saw half a dozen cows grazing under trees.

“One of those animals must have bellowed in my ear.”

Relieved to find that there was nothing near but cows, the other boys laughed too.

“Maybe you scared the cow, Chot—who knows?” cried Fleet.

Then, as if to set their fears entirely at rest, one of the cows sent a plaintive “Mooh-h-h!” echoing through the trees.

“Oh, pshaw! I’m sorry I woke up now,” said Fleet, and with a yawn he dropped back into his blanket.

The others followed more leisurely, and soon all were slumbering peacefully again. This time nothing disturbed them, until they were awakened at dawn by the twittering of birds in the trees overhead.

Coffee, rolls, and jam served as their breakfast and at seven o’clock they pushed off into the lake again.

Two hours later they entered the little stream that connects Lake George with Lake Champlain. Paddling became easier here and they made good time, and shortly after eleven sighted the larger lake. Lake Champlain was in the form of a bay where they entered it, and seeing a town on the right, they concluded to stop there for dinner. The town proved to be Delano, a pretty little village, where they were able to secure most everything that appealed to them in the way of food.

Well satisfied, but not inclined to labor very heavily, they again pushed off, wielding their paddles slowly as they moved up the lake.

Toward evening they came to where two points of land jutted out into the water, one from either side. Between them was a narrow passage of water, while beyond, the lake was five or six miles wide, and apparently wider still in the distance.

“This is Crown Point on our left and Chimney Point on our right,” said Bert. “I came up here once in a small sail boat. I think this will be a fine place to camp to-night.”

The boys agreeing, they pitched their tents on the Crown Point side and began to prepare the evening meal. While they were at work, they heard voices nearby and looked up to see two strange-looking men approaching along the shore of the lake. It was rapidly growing dusk, and the features of the strangers could not be distinguished. They had apparently not seen the boys, for they were discussing something in low tones.

Then one of the men placed a finger to his lips and the talking ceased. They were looking straight toward the camp, the fire having attracted their attention. The next instant both men were off like the wind, crashing through the under-brush and after a moment the darkness swallowed them up.

The boys stood with open mouths staring after them.

“Well, what do you make of that?” asked Bert.

“Don’t know what to make of it,” said Chot. “But I know one thing—there’s something suspicious going on around here.”

And the others agreed.