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The old people strayed through the house upstairs and down. They looked at everything, felt of everything, exclaimed over everything; they ate, and put into their pockets, and ate again. “Please, please explain,” Bob implored. “I want to believe in him.” Probably Feather-in-the-Wind did not understand the slang but he got what Bob meant, for he said, “Come!” and started off in the direction of the lower camp. He did not go through the village but cut up on the hillside, walking swiftly as if he knew where he was bound. Bob followed..

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They felt the spirit of pioneers and an immense loyalty to the Service and what it stood for. Jerry shook his hand warmly. The Indian grunted and without a word led the way towards his camp. Bob rushed back to the house and caught up a revolver that he had bought to take care of any snakes that he might meet on his jaunts away from the dam. He did not catch up with Feather-in-the-Wind and Ted until they had reached the Indian encampment. The redskin was already rousing the braves he had picked to take part in the adventure, and there was nothing for the boys to do until all the arrangements had been made. Bob Hazard knew from Jerry’s spontaneous outburst that Mr. Whitney was to be congratulated, so he made a little speech. Yes, the apple boat. It was painted green as it had been last year; the sails were patched; the poorest apples lay in heaps on the deck, the medium sort were in bags, and the best apples were in baskets. In the midst of this tempting abundance Mrs. Lind, who was uncommonly stout, usually sat, knitting. When her husband was up in town delivering apples Mrs. Lind took care of the boat, the apples, and Nils and everything. Nils, their son, was more to look after than all the rest put together, for he was the worst scalawag to be found along the whole coast..