“You couldn’t do it, anyhow,” declared Piper. “Look how the waves beat in here. You’d be swamped in half a minute.” “What are we goin’ to do?” demanded Sile feverishly. “Be we goin’ to stand araound here and let them hang to that upsot bo’t?” “The wind should drive them right in here,” said Stone. “There they are—there they are now!” Like the canoe, the drifting boat was first seen through the blanketing rain as a black splotch on the water. In a few moments, however, they could discern the heads of the two lads who clung to it, and their shouts were answered by a reassuring call from Grant. When the boat had drifted nearer Rod came wading forth from the lake, assisting Simpson, who seemed rather weak and limp. Heedless of lightning or thunder, the waiting boys stood in that downpour of rain and cheered heartily. The canoe had been carried beyond the clutch of the waves, and the beach was left free for the reception of the drifting boat, which was also drawn up securely as soon as it floated within reach. Speechless, Simpson stumbled at Rodney’s heels as the Texan made for the tent, the front flaps of which, with commendable foresight, had been closed and buttoned by Stone and Crane. So well had the tent been pitched and guyed that it had withstood the sweep of the wind practically unmoved, and, releasing the lower button of the flap, the boys crawled inside, one after another. With the exception of Simpson, who stretched himself out, exhausted, they sat around upon the ground, a sorry-looking but triumphant bunch. The wind howled around the tent and crashed together the limbs of the trees; through the woods it roared, with a sound scarcely less awesome than that of the almost incessant volleying of the thunder. Upon the canvas shelter the rain beat in torrents, but the structure demonstrated its quality by shedding the downfall in a wonderfully effective manner. The good judgment of Rodney in locating the camp-site upon a spot where the water would flow away in all directions was made evident by the fact that no trickling rivulets seeped into the tent. Until the thunder and lightning began perceptibly to abate the boys wasted few words in conversation. After a time, however, to the satisfaction of all, it became evident that the storm was passing. Simpson sat up and surveyed Rodney. “I guess,” he said slowly, “I’d sartain been drowned if you hadn’t give me a hand.” “You don’t swim?” “Nope; never learned how.” “You should. Every fellow ought to know how to swim.” “Guess that’s right, but I never had no chance.” “Chance? What do you want? Here’s a whole lake of water to learn in.” “But how’s a feller goin’ to learn if he ain’t got nobody to show him?” “So that’s the trouble. Well, look here; if you want to learn and you’ll take the trouble to come around every day while we’re camping here, I’ll agree to do my best to teach you.”