heard what the man said, didn't you?

"Two men—tramps or fishermen, probably—had been camping on his land, and doing all the damage they could, and naturally enough he was inclined to take out his spite on us. I don't blame him much. Such a thing would rile any farmer. Most people have an idea that when they get in the country they can do as they please, and for what these ignorant fools do the innocent ones have to suffer. We are finding that out ourselves just now."

"But the old brute might have seen that we didn't belong to that class of people," growled Randy, "and besides he didn't pay any attention to what you said."

"I had no chance to explain who we were," replied Ned. "You spoiled that for me by your impudence. I have no doubt the man was fair enough at heart. If we get in any more scrapes of that kind you must keep your temper down. I'm speaking for your own good, Randy. This isn't the first time your tongue has got you into trouble."

"It would be a good idea to keep his mouth tied shut except at meal times," suggested Clay laughingly.

"If you say that again I'll hit you with my paddle," threatened Randy. "I won't stand any nonsense from you, Clay Halsey."

"No quarreling, boys," said Ned. "That's enough now. We'll let the matter drop."

Clay subsided, and so did Randy. The latter stood a little in awe of Ned's rebukes, and whether he felt the justice of this one or not, he wisely made no more allusions to the farmer.

Indeed there were other things to think about now. The night was dark and gloomy, and it was difficult to perceive the outlines of the shores. The boys were tired and sleepy, but they feared to stop and hunt up a camping ground, lest the farmer should come down and rout them out again. A light would betray them, but without it they could do nothing.

There seemed to be no current at all, and in the dead sluggish water half a mile meant a wearisome paddle.

"I'm awfully hungry," said Nugget in a plaintive tone. "I didn't have ten bites of supper."

"We're all hungry, for that matter," returned Ned, "and sleepy as well. We must find a camping place."

"You had better hurry then," observed Clay. "I believe it's going to rain. The air feels sultry, and there isn't a star in sight."

Almost as he spoke a sullen peal of thunder echoed among the hills, and an instant later a jagged flash of lightning blazed on the surface of the creek.

The boys huddled a little closer together and nervously discussed the situation. A storm was bad enough when they had a snug tent to shelter them, but in their present plight, adrift on the water in pitch darkness, there was no telling what disaster might happen.

"I wish I was home," said Nugget. "I'm awfully afraid of thunder and lightning."

No one laughed at this candid confession. The occasion was too serious for mirth.

"I hardly know what would be best to do," began Ned. "If there is going to be much lightning we will be safer on the water than among the trees on shore. But here comes a gale, if I'm not mistaken. That will make things lively for us."

Ned's prediction was correct. The trees on shore suddenly began to rustle and creak. The water was lashed into short, choppy waves, which turned to white capped billows as the wind waxed stronger. It was evident that this part of the creek occupied an exposed position.

"Keep your canoes trim," shouted Ned. "The wind will drop as soon as the rain comes."

It is doubtful if his companions heard the warning. The force of the tempest had already driven the canoes apart.

For two or three minutes Ned was tossed about at will, momentarily expecting his frail craft to upset. He could see no trace of his companions in the darkness, and when he shouted the roar of the gale almost drowned his voice.

Suddenly he felt a severe shock, and then the canoe stood still. As he partially rose, and peered to right and left, a dim object glided swiftly by him. A second later it disappeared with startling abruptness, and a frantic cry for help rang out hoarsely above the fury of the storm.