Two days later came the summons, and early the next morning Bob was
supposed to set forth again to take His Excellency fishing. The
viceregal staff, aides and guides saw them depart, never dreaming for
a moment that they were really runaways bound for a royal holiday.
Bob hardly realized it himself until, at the head of the rapids, they
unshipped all unnecessary tackle and prepared to make the run. They
hauled a big rock aboard, placing it astern to trim Bob's light weight
to balance Lord Dunbridge's. "Now," said the boy, "when I yell for you
to paddle port or starboard, you had better work for all you're worth,
Your Excellency, or we may grind on the rocks."
"Good," replied the Governor. "You can depend on me, Bob." His
Excellency knelt low on his heels forward of the bow thwart. Bob knelt
high, with the stern thwart just catching his seat. He felt his strong
ashen paddle carefully, stowed an extra blade "handy," said, "Now,
then," and the little canoe shot out into the middle of the placid
river. Far in the distance the rapids frothed and curled, their song
rippling backwards like a beckoning hand.
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