of my plan. I've figured it all out, and believe we could make it a go.
If we did, we'd surely have the time of our lives, and find out something
that I've wanted myself to know a long while back. It's about a trip up
the Radway River, too, just as our smart chum guessed."

"But, say, the boats are right here at Stanhope, and have been used in
running up and down the Bushkill; then how in the name of wonder can we
carry them over to the Radway, which is some miles away, I take it?"
asked William Carberry, soberly.

"Wait and see; Paul's got all that arranged," declared the confident
Tom Betts.

"Have 'em hauled over on one of his father's big lumber wagons, mebbe,"
suggested Nuthin, who was rather a small chap, though not of quite so
little importance as his name would seem to indicate.

"Oh, you make me tired, Nuthin," declared Bobolink; "why, those
motorboats weigh a ton or two apiece. Think of gettin' a wagon strong
enough to carry one; and all the slow trips it'd have to take to get 'em
there and back. I reckon the whole of our vacation'd see us on the dry
land part of the cruise. Now, let Paul tell us what plan he's been
thinking about to get over to the Radway with 'em."

"Well, it's just this way," the chairman of the meeting went on to say,
calmly, with the air of one who had studied the matter carefully, and
grasped every little detail; "most of you know that there was a stream
known as Jackson Creek that ran into the Bushkill a mile below
Manchester. That was once dredged out, and made to form a regular canal
connecting the two rivers. For years, my father says, it was used