upon a root, causing him to fall heavily
forward full upon his face. With a cry of distress, he scrambled to
his feet, and tried to stand, but so severe was the pain that he was
forced to sink down again upon the ground. That he had wrenched his
ankle, he was certain, and he groaned whenever he moved. But he must
reach the "Eb and Flo," for the storm was increasing in violence, and
he was sure that the boat could not hold up against such a tempest. He
tried to crawl in his endeavour to reach the shore. The perspiration
stood out in beads upon his forehead as he worked himself along, but so
intense was the pain in his foot that ere long he was forced to give up
in despair. And as he lay there he kept his eyes fixed in the
direction of the river, catching brief glimpses of the "Eb and Flo" as
she tugged hard at her anchor.

A more vivid gleam than formerly presently illuminated the river, and
as the captain looked, he emitted a hoarse cry. The boat was drifting!
She was farther from the shore he could plainly tell. Then blackness
closed down once again, leaving the helpless man racked with the agony
of suspense. The next flash revealed the boat farther away, with sail
up, and to all appearance being driven full upon the opposite shore.

"Oh, Lord!" he groaned. "She's done fer now! An' it's high tide, too!
We'll never git her off them mud flats! How in time did Eben hist that
sail in sich a storm? Why, it was all that both of us could do when it
was calm."

The storm now was at its height, and so incessant was the lightning
that the captain could see nothing more of the boat so dazzling was the
illumination. The rain pelted upon him, and at times he groaned with
pain.

"Guess I'll have to spend the night here," he muttered. "This is the
worst fix I ever got into. Wish to goodness I could git some word to
Martha. But she'll think I'm on board that boat by this time. I
wonder what she'd say if she knew I was layin' here, helpless as a log.
But, then, it might be worse. I'm alive, me leg ain't broke, an' the
lightnin' hasn't hit me. I've got much to be thankful fer yet, even
though the 'Eb an' Flo' does go on the flats. Old Parson Westmore used
to say that when things got black always count yer blessin's, an' ye'll
be surprised to find how many ye really have left. So cheer up, Sam'l
Tobin, it'll take more'n a thunder storm an' a sprained ankle to knock
ye out, blamed if it won't."

Under the insp