It was wide enough so the rain didn't come in and wet us as long as we stayed way back near the windows.

We sat in a long row with our chairs tilted back.

It was nice there.
Somebody said, "That spring-board looks lonely sticking out into the lake; look how the drops jump off it, just like fellows diving." "Not much of a day for the race," Doc Carson said.
"What race ?" Pee-wee shouted.
"The human race," Doc said; "no sooner said than stung." We were just starting to jolly Pee-wee, because that's our favorite indoor sport, when somebody said, "There's one of the gold dust twins out; he must be crazy." "He comes from Maine," another fellow said; "I guess he's a maniac." But anyway, it was no joke, that was sure.

Away over near the other side of the lake we could see the canoe bobbing up and down and it seemed to be coming toward us.
"Only one of them is in it," I said.
"And that's one too much on a day like this; that pair are sure nutty," Doc said.
But just the same the canoe came along and one of those campers was sitting in the stern paddling it.

He was having a pretty hard job, I could see that, but maybe it wasn't as dangerous as it looked, because if you know how to manage a canoe it's better than an old tub of a boat in bad weather.
"He's making it all right," one of the fellows said; "he's game, that's sure." Pretty soon he came alongside the landing and turned his canoe over to let the water out, and then came up to the pavilion.
"Pretty wet," he said.
"You said something," Westy answered him; "you took a big chance coming over." "I'd sure have been drowned if I _hadn't_ come," he laughed; "I wonder if you fellows can sell us a shovel?
Our tent is floating." I had to laugh, because that's always the one thing that most campers who aren't used to it forget about--I mean digging a drain ditch outside their tent.