“Worst thing about it,” declared Bluff, good-naturedly, when the others were standing around, grinning at his forlorn appearance, “is that I lost that nice wedge of ham. Somebody make me up another sandwich; won’t you, while I get out of these soggy duds, and into some dry ones?” “But the first thing we ought to do is to swing the boat free from that snag,” remarked Frank, “I don’t fancy being held up here like this. It must be a grounded log, with one end pointing up-stream; and we’re stuck on that like a pivot, by the way the boat swings around, first this way, then that.” He took an observation, and found out just where the point of the snag seemed to be pressing into the bottom planks of the houseboat. “By good luck it’s over on one side,” Frank remarked, after a while; “and if we all throw our weight over to starboard, perhaps the boat may list enough to let her slip off. Come along, and try it, anyhow. If that fails, we may have to start something else moving.” But it did not fail, fortunately. Just as Frank had said, the nose of the submerged log happened to be against the slippery bottom of the houseboat near the edge, and a very small list started the craft to sliding. They heard a grating noise, and then the boat once more came to an even keel, starting to glide along with the current. Of course it was easy enough, after that, to work her head around, so that it again pointed down the river. “I’ll keep a better lookout after this, Frank,” Jerry asserted, knowing that the fault was principally his, since he had been left in charge as pilot of the expedition. Will had meanwhile obligingly made up another “snack” for the swimmer; and Bluff ate it with the utmost unconcern, just as though falling overboard from a snagged houseboat were an every-day occurrence in his experience. During the afternoon they sighted the first real shantyboat seen on the cruise. A savage dog aboard barked at them as long as they were passing; for the boat happened to be tied up to the shore at the time. A rough-looking man was filing a saw, and Frank gave it as his opinion that he followed this trade; dropping down the river, a mile or so at a time, as business permitted, and possibly following the profession of sewing-machine agent as well. Late that afternoon it began to look blustery, and Frank was more or less concerned as to where they might find a suitable place at which to tie up for the coming night. They had passed several good spots, but it was too early to stop drifting for the day; and now that they wanted a shelter, and a stout post for the cable, both seemed absent. “Looks like something ahead there, Frank,” announced Jerry, who still stuck to the heavy sweep, as though he wanted to make amends for his carelessness earlier in the day.