Mr. Bigglethorpe, Mr. Terry and Marjorie, with part of the picnic
material, got off the waggon at the Richards' place, and proceeded to
the lake. They found the punt there, but saw no sign of the skiff.
Marjorie inherited her father's love of the water, and greatly enjoyed
even the slow progress made by the paddles of her boatmen in the
unwieldy craft. Meanwhile, the waggon arrived as near the encampment as
it was possible to get; the company descended to the blackened ground;
and Mr. Perrowne found a path for the ladies up to the ruins. The
horses, sedate, well-behaved animals, were unhitched, and allowed to
pick about where they pleased, after which the three gentlemen carried
the wraps and picnic baskets and pails to where the ladies stood,
inspecting the ravages of the fire. Muggins had come with Mr. Perrowne,
and sniffed about, rediscovering the treasure hole which had so nearly
proved fatal to the Squire. It was agreed to go down to the water's
edge, and encamp upon some green spot, near good fishing, over which the
bush fire had not run. Such a place was found to the right of the
caved-in tunnel, a broad patch of fine-leaved native grass, shaded by
oaks and maples of second growth.
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