Babe's weight, slight as it was, on the
outer end, together with his occasional ecstatic, though silent,
hoppings up and down, had little by little sufficed to slip the
haphazard mooring. This the Babe was far too absorbed to notice.

All at once, having just slipped a nice half-pounder onto the forked
stick which served him instead of a fishing basket, he noticed that the
wooded point which had been shutting off his view on the right seemed
to have politely drawn back. His heart jumped into his throat. He
turned--and there were twenty yards or so of clear water between the
raft and the shore. The raft was gently but none too slowly gliding
out toward the tumbling whitecaps.

Always methodical, the Babe laid his rod and his string of fish
carefully down on the logs, and then stood for a second or two quite
rigid. This was one of those dreadful things which, as he knew, _did_
happen, sometimes, to other people, so that he might read about it.
But that it should actually happen to _him_! Why, it was as if he had
been reading some terrible adventure and suddenly found himself thrust
trembling into the midst of it. All at once those whitecaps out in the
lake seemed to be turning dreadful eyes his way and clamoring for
_him_! He opened his mouth and gave two piercing shrieks which cut the
air like saws.

"What's the matter?" shouted a very anxious voice from among the trees.

It was the voice of Uncle Andy. He had returned sooner than he was
expected. And instantly the Babe's terror vanished. He knew that
everything would be all right in just no time.

"I'm afloat. Bill's raft's carrying me away!" he replied in an injured
voice.

"Oh!" said Uncle Andy, emerging from the trees and taking in the
situation. "You _are_ afloat, are you! I was afraid from the noise
you made that you were sinking. Keep your hair on, and I'll be with
you in five seconds. And we'll see what Bill's raft has to say for
itself after such extraordinary behavior."

Putting the canoe into the water, he thrust out, overtook the raft in a
dozen strokes of his paddle, and proceeded to tow it back to the shore
in disgrace.

"What on earth did you make those dreadful noises for?" demanded Uncle
Andy, "instead of simply calling for me, or Bill, to come and get you?"

"You see, Uncle Andy," answered the Babe, after some consideration, "I
was in a hurry, rather, and I thought you or Bill might be in a hurry,
too, if I made a noise like t