Tom, indicating the direction with his finger. "You know which one I mean, don't you? You're sure you can tell a canvas canoe from a Shadow or a Rob Roy?"
"Am I sure that I can tell a pipe from a shot gun?" retorted Matt.
"Yes, I suppose you can do that, but I am not so positive that you can tell one canoe from another," answered Tom. "Of course it wouldn't be safe for me to go down to the beach with you, for if Joe should happen to be anywhere within sight, I'd be in a pretty fix. You may be sure I shall not so much as hint that I saw you here in the woods, and you mustn't lisp it to a living person."
"Course not," said Matt. "Mum's the word between gentlemen."
Tom could scarcely restrain an exclamation of disgust. It looked as though this blear-eyed ragamuffin considered himself quite as good as the boy he was talking to.
"Take the canoe just as it stands," continued Tom, "and you will find a good lunch as well as a fine fishing-rod in it. Be lively now, for Joe may come back at any moment. I'll
