Harry, who with daylight and warmth had recovered his good-humor,
examined the odometer and reported the distance travelled to be 18.65
miles. He entered in his note-book that the Spanish name Puerco meant,
as a noun, hog, and as an adjective, dirty. He thought the river well
named. He also mentioned that on the eastern side of the stream there
was an excellent camping-place, but that much pains had been taken to
ford it to a very poor one. After pondering this apparently
unreasonable movement he asked: "Why did we not camp on that grassy
park on the opposite side?"
"I suppose it appears to you there can be no good reason for crossing
to this side?" I asked, in reply.
"It does seem even more absurd than starting on a march just after
midnight--something like going into a wood-shed to rest on a wood-pile
when one could as well go into a parlor and rest on a divan."
"And certainly," added Frank, "we have gained nothing in distance in
crossing. The march is to be short to-morrow."
"Still, boys, there is quite as good a reason for doing this as for
starting early to avoid the heat of the day.
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