passing under those low branches at the mouth
of the creek, and I can't be more than a mile or so from there now."

For an instant the idea of paddling home in his canoe and leaving the
raft to its fate flashed across his mind, but it was dismissed as
promptly as it had come. "Not much I won't!" he said, aloud. "I've
shipped for the voyage, and I'm going to see it through in spite of
everything. Besides, it's my own fault that I'm in this fix. If I
hadn't carried away that cable this thing never could have happened.
What a fool I was! But who would have supposed the water could rise so
quickly?"

The thought of his little dugout caused the boy to wonder if it were
still attached to the raft where he had made it fast the evening
before. Again he ventured outside to look for the canoe, but the
darkness was so dense and the violence of the storm so bewildering
that, after a narrow escape from stepping overboard, he realized that
without a light of some kind the undertaking was too dangerous. "There
must be a lantern somewhere," he thought. "Yes, I remember seeing one
brought aboard." Finally he discovered it hanging near the stove, and,
to his joy, it was full of oil. By its aid his search for the canoe
was successful, and he was delighted to find it floating safely
alongside, though half full of water, and in danger of being stove
against the timbers of the raft by the waves that were breaking on
deck. With infinite labor he at length succeeded in hauling the little
craft aboard and securing it in a place of safety. Then, though he
would gladly have had the comfort of a light in the "shanty," the
thought of his recent narrow escape warned him to guard against another
similar danger by running the lantern to the top of the signal-pole,
and leaving it there as a beacon.

He could do nothing more; and so, drenched, chilled, and weary, the
lonely lad crept back into the "shanty." How dreary it was to be its
sole occupant! If he only had some one to talk, plan, and consult
with! He felt so helpless and insignificant there in the dark,
drifting down the great river on a raft that, without help, he was as
incapable of managing as a baby. What ought he to do? What should he
do? It was so hard to think without putting his thoughts into words.
Even Elta's presence and counsel would be a comfort, and the boy
laughed bitterly to recall how often he had treated the dear sister's
practical common-sense with contemp