who stood in the bow of the casco with an oar, ready to do whatever seemed best for the craft. "We've a good many miles to go yet."
At that instant the casco ahead ran aground in the shallow river, and Larry had all he could do to keep his craft from running into it. As the two boats came stem to stern one of the soldiers in the craft ahead called out to those behind:—
"Say, Idaho, do you know where we are bound?"
"Bound for Santa Cruz, so I heard our captain remark," answered one of the soldiers in Larry's boat. "Got any tobacco, North Dakota?"
"Nary a pipeful, wuss luck," was the response; and then the line straightened out as the casco ahead, cleared herself from the mud, and the two boats moved apart once more.
"Are we really going to Santa Cruz?" questioned Larry, as soon as he got the chance. "I thought we were bound for the north shore of the lake."
"I can only tell you what I heard the captain say," answered the soldier, with a shrug of his shoulder. "General Lawton ain't blowing his plans through a trumpet, you know."
"I hope we do go to Santa Cruz," mused Larry, as he thought of what had been said of Benedicto
