“I think we can risk a fire,” said Henry.  “The Spaniards are far out of sight, and warm food will be good for us.”

After they had eaten, Henry poured a few drops of the Spanish liquor for each in a small silver cup that he found in one of the lockers.

“That will hearten us up,” he said, but directly after they drank it Paul, who had been making an exploration of his own on the boat, uttered a cry of joy.

“Coffee!” he said, as he dragged a bag from under a seat, “and here is a pot to boil it in.”

“More treasures,” said Sol gleefully.  “That wuz shorely a good night’s work you an’ me done, Henry!”

There was nothing to do but boil a pot of the coffee then and there, and each had a long, delicious drink.  Coffee and tea were so rare in the wilderness that they were valued like precious treasures.  Then they packed their things and started, pulling out into the middle of the stream and giving the current only a little assistance with the oars.

“One thing is shore,” said Shif’less Sol, lolling luxuriously on a locker, “that Spanish gang can’t git away from us.  All we’ve got to do is to float along ez easy ez you please, an’ we’ll find ’em right in the middle o’ the road.”

“It does beat walkin’,” said Jim Hart, with equal content, “but this is shorely a pow’ful big river.  I never seed so much muddy water afore in my life.”

“It’s a good river, a kind river,” said Paul, “because it’s taking us right to its bosom, and carrying us on where we want to go with but little trouble to us.”

It was to Paul, the most imaginative of them all, to whom the mighty river made the greatest appeal.  It seemed beneficent and kindly to him, a friend in need.  Nature, Paul thought, had often come to their assistance, watching over them, as it were, and helping them when they were weakest.  And, in truth, what they saw that morning was enough to inspire a bold young wilderness rover.

The river turned from yellow to a lighter tint in the brilliant sunlight.  Little waves raised by the wind ran across the slowly-flowing current.  As far as they could see the stream extended to eastward, carried by the flood deep into the forest.  The air was crisp, with the sparkle of spring, and all the adventurers rejoiced.

Now and then great flocks of wild fowl, ducks and geese, flew over the river, and they were so little used to man that more than once they passed close to the boat.

“The Spaniards are too far away to hear,” said Henry, “and the next time any wild ducks come near I’m going to try one of these fowling pieces.  We need fresh ducks, anyway.”

He took out a fowling piece, loaded it carefully with the powder and shot that the locker furnished in abundance and waited his time.  By and by a flock of wild ducks flew near and Henry fired into the midst of them.  Three lay floating on the water after the shot, and when they took them in Long Jim Hart, a master on all such subjects, pronounced them to be of a highly edible variety.