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Gray-haired, delicate, with sorrowful eyes and long, white hands, Uncle Isaac sat in his big, carved, oaken chair. Hardly were the words out of his mouth when more trouble ensued. The canyon broadened and instead of the river being confined in a deep, fast-flowing current, it was spread out into a shallow, dawdling stream. Several times they grounded, there was so little water covering the sand. Here and there rocks stuck above the water, and in places it was necessary to jump out and push the boat into a deeper part. It was while they were busy with the cakes that it had dawned upon Johnny Blossom that there was no time to spare, and that he must decide upon his presents at once..
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What would Father think if he knew that they had taken money for rowing a person ashore? Oh, dear! That had been wrong then. Johnny Blossom sat doubled together, scowling fiercely, as was his habit when he was worried about anything. That miserable five cents—why had they taken it? “That was tough,” said Bob sympathetically. “What’d you do then?” By the time his story was finished, a knock sounded on the door and it opened to let in Jenkins, the camp marshal. It did not take the Wolf long to reach the grandmother's house; he knocked: tap, tap..
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