Owing to the rapids which separated the island from the
Jersey shore, we had to go up stream a quarter of a mile, to where a
smooth sheet of ice had formed, over a quiet part of the river; thence we
sailed down to the island along the Pennsylvania side.
"What a capital island for a camp," cried Bill, after we had explored it
pretty thoroughly. "Have you ever been out camping?"
I had to confess I never had, and then Bill gave me a glowing account of
his experiences in the Adirondacks with his uncle the year before, which
so stirred up the romance in me that I wanted to camp out at once.
"Shucks!" said Bill, "We would freeze in this kind of weather, and
besides, we've got to make a tent first."
We then sat down and made elaborate plans for the summer. Suddenly the
distant sound of a locomotive whistle interrupted our reveries.
"Jiminy crickets!" I exclaimed. "That's the train coming through
Spalding's Cut. We've got to hustle if we are to catch it."
We were off like the wind, and a merry chase brought us to the Lumberville
depot in time to flag the train. We arrived at Lamington at half past
twelve, a trifle late for dinner, rather tired and hungry, but with a
glowing and I fear somewhat exaggerated account of our adventure for the
credulous ears of the rest of the boys.
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