Summary

Quincy Allen The Outdoor Chums on a Houseboat…

To all of this conversation old Luther seemed to enjoy listening greatly. He would sit there without saying a word, and taking it all in; while a queer little smile would occasionally cross his face, of which the observing Frank could make nothing.
During the day Frank managed to remove the pelt of his prize, and it was fastened with nails against the cabin wall, in a place where the sun could seldom strike it; for skins must always be dried in the shade. And every time he looked at it, in days to come, doubtless Frank would always see the strange picture of the flooded river
Source: Gutenberg

Quincy Allen The Outdoor Chums on a Houseboat…

Only for that strange clause in the note of Uncle Felix they might have allowed him to remain on board the houseboat until New Orleans was reached, no matter if he were Marcus Stackpole or not.
Often would they ponder over this strange matter; and it must form the subject of more than a few earnest talks; yet, not having the key to the puzzle, they must always confess themselves baffled. As Frank had truly said, the riddle was not to be solved until they stood face to face with the gentleman who owned the Pot Luck, and they had plied him with questions.
Source: Gutenberg

Quincy Allen The Outdoor Chums on a Houseboat…

I’ve been foolish to try and stand out against as fine a fellow as you. The crowd at college that stood up for you knew what they were doing. I’m ashamed of the way I acted, and I’m going to ask your pardon right here.”
“Glad to hear you say that you’ve changed your mind about me, Ossie,” said Frank, as he took the extended olive branch in the shape of Fredericks’ hand, and gave it a hearty squeeze. “And I hope that when we go back to college again we’ll be the best of friends. As to the little job we joined you in this night, why, it’s been a snap for us; eh, Bluff?”
Source: Gutenberg

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