're in for it," he said. "It's settled down for an all day's rain."

"I hope so," responded Henry Burns, with a twinkle in his eye, "I like
it--but I wish I could feel just one dry spot on my back."

They ate their dinner of fried bacon and pickerel and coffee beside a
fire that blazed cheerily, despite an occasional sputtering caused by
the rain dripping through; and when they had got half dry and had
started forth once more into the rain, they were in good spirits. But
the first ten minutes of paddling found them drenched to the skin again.

They ran some small rapids after a time, and later carried around a
little dam. The afternoon waned, and the windings of the stream seemed
endless. It was three o'clock when, at a sudden turn to the right, which
was to the eastward, they came upon another stream flowing in and
mingling with the one they were following. Thenceforth the two ran as
one stream, the banks widening perceptibly, the stream flowing far more
broadly, and with increased depth and strength. The way from now on was
to the eastward some three or four miles, and then almost due south to
Benton, a distance of ten of eleven miles more.

They were soon running swiftly with the current, shooting rapids, at
times, of an eighth of a mile in length, going very carefully not to
scrape on submerged rocks. And still the rain fell. There were two dams
to carry around, and they did this somewhat drearily, trudging along the
muddy shores, climbing the slippery banks with difficulty, and with some
danger of falling and smashing their canoe.

Five, six and seven o'clock came; darkness was shutting in, and they
were three miles from Benton. To make matters worse, with the falling of
night the rain increased, pouring in such torrents that they had
frequently to pause and empty out their canoe.

A few minutes after seven, and a light gleamed from a window a little
distance back from the stream, less than a quarter of a mile.

"There's our lodgings for the night, Jack," said Henry Burns, pointing
up through the rain. "I don't mind saying I've had enough. It's three
miles yet to Benton, or nearly that, there are three more dams, and as
for walking, the road must be a bog-hole."

"I'm with you," responded Harvey. "If it's a lodging house, I've the
money to pay--three dollars in the oiled silk wallet. If it's a
farmhouse, we'll stay, if we have to sleep in the barn."

Presently they perceived a landing, with several rowboats