Lucky Horse by Bonnie Bryant Page B

terrific, weren’t they?” Colonel Hanson laughed, trying hard to swallow his own pancake. “Want to go again tonight?”
    “Sure,” Carole agreed eagerly. “But what are we going to do in the meantime?”
    “Well, I was hoping we could get in some early-morning fishing, but since our pancake breakfast took a little longer than expected, I guess we could get in some late-morning fishing. I’ve got Colonel Cheatham’s collapsible canoe and paddle. Does that sound like fun?”
    “Sure does.” Carole smiled, washing the last bite of her pancakes down with a big glass of milk.
    By the time they got the dishes cleared away, it was nearly noon. Colonel Hanson eagerly accepted Carole’s offer to make sandwiches for the fishing trip. Without the solar cookstove to haul, they had only the collapsible boat, the folding paddles, and an enormous box of lures and tackle to take along. With her plain old cane pole slung over her shoulder, Carole helped her dad lug all the equipment to the creek.
    “Uh, D-Dad?” Carole stammered when they cameto the bank of a small creek. “It looks awfully small for canoeing.”
    “Well, sometimes they just seem that way.” Her father grinned. “Don’t worry. It’ll be great. Colonel Cheatham says these boats can float in a teaspoon of water.”
    “But Dad …”
    “Don’t worry, Carole,” her father said as he began to unfold the boat. “Trust me.”
    She put down her fishing tackle and helped him. The little canvas-and-aluminum boat unfolded easily, as did both its paddles. Colonel Hanson pushed the canoe out into the water, where it bobbed, awaiting its passengers.
    “See? Plenty of water to keep us afloat. Now, ladies first,” said Colonel Hanson with a bow.
    “That’s okay, Dad.” Carole smiled. “I’ll let you go first.”
    “Okay.” Colonel Hanson put his hands on either side of the boat and slowly crept forward. The little canoe wobbled for a moment, then floated easily on the water. “There. See? It’s great. Grab those paddles and climb aboard!”
    Carole handed the paddles to her father and stepped into the boat just as he had. It wobbled beneath her until she crawled onto the seat.
    “See?” Colonel Hanson said. “Easy, isn’t it?”
    Carole nodded. “Where are we going?”
    Colonel Hanson dipped his paddle into the water. “Let’s see if we can get close to that big tree. I bet some old bass is down in that dark water, just waiting to be caught.”
    “Okay, Dad.” Carole dipped her paddle into the water on the other side of the canoe and made a single stroke. The canoe went forward for about ten seconds, then suddenly turned sideways. Colonel Hanson swayed to the left in his seat. The little boat gave a shudder, and the next thing Carole knew the canoe was over their heads and she was sitting on the creek bottom, under water.
    She came up coughing and spewing water. Her father was on the other side of the canoe, water pouring from his fishing hat as if a bucket had overturned on his head.
    “Are you all right, Carole?” her father cried.
    “I’m fine,” she replied, starting to laugh. “The water’s just barely above my waist. But look at your hat!”
    Colonel Hanson took the hat off and wrung it out like a rag. “What happened?” he asked. “We were doing so great!”
    “I don’t know.” Carole wiped the water from her eyes. “Let’s get back on the bank and figure it out.”
    Together they shoved the capsized canoe to the side of the creek. Carole’s once dry clothes now clung to her in a soggy mess, and she could feel mud squishinginside her shoes. Walking back up the trail like this was going to feel awful!
    They emptied the swamped canoe and dragged it onto the bank. Colonel Hanson hopped up on the bank and offered Carole his hand. “I’m sorry, honey. Are you sure you’re okay?”
    “Yes, Dad, I’m fine. Just a little damp.” Carole wrung the water out of her shirttail and eyed the soaked canoe. “You know, since I just