On their return a sudden flaw of wind upset their boat in the middle of the lake. The young men charged the young girls to hold fast to the boat as it floated, upturned, in the water. They did so till, one by one, their hands becoming numb and powerless, and their strength exhausted, they sunk to rise no more! The long hair of one of the girls became entangled around the button of the coat of one of the young men, and he succeeded in lifting her up, and reaching the shore with her. The four sisters were gone, and as the three survivors entered the town with their heavy tidings, the friends of the two sisters visiting Lake City drove in to take them home. Alas, they were already beyond the reach of earthly help or love! In a few days the bodies of these four young girls were found, two of them far down at the other end of the lake. Every heart sympathized with the bereaved parents, and while their house was left to them desolate, the shadow of grief rested on the whole town. A clear sunset and fading twilight gave place to the rising glories of the queen of night. About ten o’clock the boat stopped by the side of a forest to take in wood. Pine fagots, lighted on the shore, cast a ruddy glow on the men, who ran rapidly to and fro with their burden. The moonlight slept peacefully on the waters, while from out of the shadowy recesses of the grove a whippowill charmed the night into silence. Rapid, clear, and distinct were those sweet sounds, as if he wished to sing his song for the listening ears soon to be far away. He seemed to have all the wood to himself, as he warbled his delicious notes. In harmony were they with the still beauty of that summer night, with the mystery of that woodland scene, and the quiet ripple of the moonlit waters. “Loud, and sudden, and near, the note of the whippowill sounded, like a flute in the woods; and anon, through the neighboring thickets. Further and further away it floated, and dropped into silence.” Later in the night there was alarm and confusion on board. The steamer Itasca, at a landing, ran into the Grey Eagle, breaking her paddle-wheel. There was a crash, and for some time none knew the extent of the injury received. The engines were stopped. The emigrants sleeping on the deck, near the broken wheel, roused by the collision, were transferred, with their sleeping children, to the other side, and fruitless attempts were made to repair the injury. After a delay of two hours the machinery was again set in motion, and the one paddle-wheel had to do all the work. Happily Norman and his mother, who were on the quiet side of the boat, slept through all the noise and confusion. CHAPTER X. FOURTH DAY UPON THE MISSISSIPPI.