Читать книгу The Boy Scout Pathfinders; Or, Jack Danby's Best Adventure онлайн

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Running along the bank, they discovered a place where a fallen forest giant had formed a natural dam, and the water was several feet deep. It was not two minutes before every Scout was in the pool, and oh, how grateful the cool, clear water felt! They splashed around, and in one place the better swimmers found it deep enough for diving.

“Say, isn’t this a bully place?” shouted Jack.

“Bet your sweet life it is!” shouted one.

“I just guess yes!” agreed another.

Mr. Durland remained on the bank with Don beside him. He could see that the dog wanted to jump in with the boys, but felt that he ought not to leave the Scout-Master alone. So Mr. Durland picked up a dry stick and, showing it to Don, said, “Here, boy, fetch it back!” and threw it into the stream.

In three bounds Don had reached the brink of the pool and dashed in, covering the boys with spray. In less time than it takes to tell, he had grasped the stick in his strong, white teeth, and clambered up the bank.

Pausing only long enough to give himself a shake, which sent a miniature shower into the air, he ran proudly up to the Scout-Master and dropped the stick at his feet. Mr. Durland patted his wet head approvingly, and this performance was repeated several times, much to the delight of both boys and dog. When it came to swimming, Don could beat any of them, and the water seemed almost to be his natural element.