"I'd sure have been drowned if I _hadn't_ come," he laughed; "I wonder if you fellows can sell us a shovel? Our tent is floating." I had to laugh, because that's always the one thing that most campers who aren't used to it forget about--I mean digging a drain ditch outside their tent. And the first time it rains, _good night,_ they get drowned out like rats. I thought he was a pretty nice kind of a fellow, only he was one tenderfoot, that was sure. He had a swell bathing suit on with one of those waterproof mackinaw jackets over it. I guess his people were rich all right, and I suppose that's why the fellows at camp called the pair the gold dust twins. He took some bills out of his pocket and said, "We want to buy a shovel; you can't dig a trench with a canoe paddle. There's fine swimming in our tent." Then Bert Winton said, kind of quiet in that way he had, "I don't think you'll need any money here. I'll get hold of one of the scoutmasters," and he started down the steps. Just then I noticed Skinny standing on the steps and Bert Winton gave him a push, just for fun, as he went by. "Come on in out of the rain, Alf," I said; because I knew he was just hanging there, because he was afraid to come up where the rest of us were. I asked him where his patrol was, and he said, "In the cabin, playing checkers." I said, "Don't _you_ know how to play checkers," and he said, "No." After that I didn't notice him. Pretty soon the gold dust twin came back with a shovel and Mr. Elting, who is resident trustee, was with him, telling him he'd better not go back across the lake on account of its blowing up harder. "I could never get around through the woods," he said; "because I tried it." "Some of these boys will show you the trail," Mr. Elting said. But he said, "No," and that as long as he came he was going to go back. He said he didn't want any escort. He was pretty game, that was one sure thing. I guess maybe he felt sort of ashamed to have boy scouts show him the way, because he was older than most of us. Anyway, he started back and we sat there watching him, and pretty soon it seemed as if a kind of a screen was behind him, the rain was so thick and there was so much mist. It made him look sort of like a ghost or a--you know--a spectre. Then, all of a sudden Artie Van Arlen's hat blew off and I heard a branch of a tree crack. "Where is the canoe?" Doc said, all excited; "do you see it?" We looked all over, but couldn't see him anywhere. That was just how quickly it happened. Then, all of a sudden I could hear a voice, but I couldn't hear it plain, because the wind was blowing the other way and the rain was making such a racket on the porch roof. The voice was all mixed up with the wind and it sounded spooky and gave me the creeps. For a couple of seconds nobody said anything. CHAPTER XV TELLS ABOUT AN ACCIDENT