"Why, what a water-dog you are, Frank!" said the foreman, laughing. "One
would think you'd have had enough of the water by this time."

"Not a bit of it," said Frank, returning the smile. "The woods in winter,
and the water in summer--that's what I enjoy."

"Well, but aren't you in a hurry to get home and see your mother again?"
queried Johnston.

"Of course I am," answered Frank. "But, you see, a day or two won't make
much difference, for she doesn't know just when to look for me; and I've
never been on this part of the Ottawa, and want to see it ever so much."

"Well--let me see," reflected Johnston. "How can we manage it? You'd soon
get sick of the steamers. They're mortal slow and very dirty. Besides,
they don't encourage passengers, or they'd have too many of them. But
hold on!" he exclaimed, his face lighting up with a new idea. "I've got
it. How would you like to finish the rest of the trip home on a square
timber raft? There'll be one passing any day, and I know 'most all the
men in the business, so there'll be no difficulty about getting a
passage."

"The very idea!" cried Frank, jumping up and bringing his hand down upon
his thigh with a resounding slap. "Nothing would please me better. Oh,
what fun it will be shooting the slides!" And he danced about in delight
at the prospect.

"All right then, my lad," said Johnston, smiling at the boy's exuberance.
"We'll just wait here until a raft comes along, and then we'll board her
and ask the fellows to let us go down with them. They won't refuse."