e
gathering over the hills, and that the wind had risen so that little
white caps had sprung up, and were dancing in towards shore. But a low
mutter of thunder startled them, and they saw now no way but to adopt a
means for shelter which they had followed before to keep dry.

"Hurry up, Ned," said Joe; "make for the boat; that storm's a dandy, and
coming like thunder, too. It's pouring at the end of the lake already."

The boys put for the boat as hard as they could, and a moment later had
her beached and rolled over, and their clothes snugly tucked away under
perfect shelter.

"Here she is!" they both cried at the same moment, as the rain started
to come down in large noisy drops, and the wind caught the spray from
the water and whirled it along in sudden gusts.

"Let her rain," said Joe; "but doesn't that sting your back, it does
mine; and that wind's cold, too. I'm going to swim out a way, the
water's warmer than here."

So Joe plunged in and swam out from the shore.

Ned watched him as he paddled around in the deep water; he did not
exactly like the idea. The whole scene, with the dark lowering clouds,
broken now and then by the jagged streaks of lightning, each one
followed by a sharp and startling smash and roar, made him shiver, and
the large drops and an occasional hailstone made him skip around on the
beach. The situation was exciting, though, and Joe, now quite a way out,
felt the tingles creep through him. Finally, as Ned was still watching
Joe, he saw him start forward with the overhand Indian stroke, making
straight for the middle of the lake. He put his hands to his mouth and
shouted:

"Say, Joe! come back here! Don't be a fool; come back!"

Joe paid no attention; he did not hear the call, which was carried back
into the woods by the gusts of wind; he kept on straight ahead, swimming
as though in a race.

Ned turned and looked at the boat and then at Joe. "I know what's the
matter," he said, aloud; "he's seen one of the floats way out there, and
he's after it; but he can't stand it, I know he can't; he'll be all
tired out when he gets there, and then when he has to tread water and
play that fish--" Here he stopped, and gave a long low whistle. "By
jingo! he must be a monster! why, he's towed that float nearly a hundred
yards dead against this sea. No, sir! Joe can't do it, and here goes for
wet clothes to get home in."

Ned had hardly finished speaking, and inwardly calling Joe some hard
names