The Jolly Rovers were agreeably surprised when they reached Mose Hocker’s “place.” Instead of the farmhouse, which they had confidently expected, it proved to be a snug little cabin standing in a dense bit of woods along the creek, and distant from Rudy’s Hole about one mile.

Mose was a tall, wiry, middle aged man, with a smooth shaven face.

“I’ve always been fond of hunting and fishing,” he explained to the boys, “an’ about two year ago I built this place, an’ moved in. It stands on my own land. I have a farm back yonder, but after my wife died I put a tenant on my property. The life didn’t agree with me, somehow or other.”

“I reckon I’ve got a streak of my daddy’s wild blood. He was a great hunter in his day, and that’s why I prize this gun so much. It was made in London by John Armstrong in 1874so that silver plate on the breech saysand if it is old fashioned it kin shoot. You chaps ought to be here in the fall when the ducks and geese are movingI’d show you some sport.”

Mr. Hocker proved himself a delightful host. His cabin was crammed full of curious contrivances for catching fish and trapping game, the various uses of which he took delight in explaining to the boys. He was an adept at cookingas the bountiful evening meal provedand he possessed a fund of adventurous stories that made the hours pass quickly until bedtime.

He spread blankets and pillows on the floor for his guests, and after the wearisome events of the day they slept soundly until dawn.

A plunge in the creek was first in order, and then came a warm breakfast. An hour later, with many sincere expressions of regret at parting, the Jolly Rovers resumed their cruise. Mr. Hocker pressed them to stay a couple of days, but they deemed it best to push on, since they were yet many miles from home.

Little did they think as they paddled away from the cabin, that they and their friendly host would meet again under far different circumstances in the near future.

All that daywhich was Wednesdaythe boys paddled steadily. They camped in the evening at the water works dam, one mile out from Carlisle, and while Clay and Randy prepared supper, Ned and Nugget went to town for mail. Fortunately they visited the express office as well, and found a cake there addressed to Randy. They brought it triumphantly back to campa straight road precluded the possibility of losing the way on this occasionand had a glorious feast before going to bed.

Thursday was a repetition of the previous day. Nothing occurred worthy of special mention. The boys covered ten or fifteen miles in spite of the dams that frequently blocked the way.

About four o’clock in the afternoon, while passing through a lonely and beautiful strip of country, they came upon five tiny islands grouped together in mid channel. The largest was not more than a dozen yards long. All were grassy and shaded by trees, and they made a pretty picture with the water rippling softly through the narrow winding channels that separated them.

As the bushes and timber on both banks of the creek were very dense, the boys chose one of the islands for a camping placethe left hand one of two that lay a little farther down stream than the others. It was two or three feet above the surface of the creek, level and grassy on top, and contained seven or eight good sized trees.

The largest of thesea massive buttonwoodstood at the extreme lower end, and its whitened, far stretching roots had been laid bare by the current that came sweeping down each side, formed a shallow swirling eddy.

Here the boys landed, and seeing that the steepness of the bank would make it a difficult task to carry the canoes upif indeed there was room to spare abovethey tied them in a bunch to the roots of the tree. Then stripping off their shoes and stockings, they waded about in the shallow water unloading what articles they wanted, and carrying them up on the bank.

The tent was staked in the center of the island, and the boys did not discover, until too late, that the entrance faced up stream.

“Let it go,” said Ned. “It’s a little unhandy for the canoes, that’s all. We must be careful not to trip over the ropes, though.”

There was another reason why the tent should have faced the opposite way. It was exposed, in its present position, to any storm that might come up from the west.

But this did not occur to the boys, and very naturally, since the sky was cloudless and the air but moderately warm. It had not been such a day as usually brews July thunderstorms.

After considerable searching, two stones suitable for the fireplace were found in the eddy. There was an utter lack of fuel on the island, so Ned and Randy paddled to shore and loaded their canoes with driftwood.

Two weeks of camp life had now familiarized each lad with the duties that were assigned to him, and by working in unison supper was soon prepared.

The boys lingered over the meal a good while, and it was quite dark when the dishes were washed and put away.

At nine o’clock all were sleeping soundly behind the tightly drawn tent flaps, and the fire was mingling its red flashes with the moonlight glow on the rippling surface of the creek.

Ten o’clock cameeleventwelve. Not a breath of air was stirring; a dead, oppressive calm, like the sultriness of noonday, had settled down on land and water. Half an hour later the west was inky black with massed storm clouds and fleecy forerunners of the coming tempest were straying one after another across the moon.

All unconscious of impending danger the boys slept peacefully, nor did they awake until the storm was upon them in all its fury. Dazed and terrified they crouched close together, watching the jagged purple flashes that turned night into noonday, listening to the furious patter of the rain and the crashing of thunder, and shivering where the oozing drops fell in their faces from the saturated canvas.

Streams of water were trickling across the ground, and the tent was tugging, like a thing of life, to free itself from the iron stakes.

Ned groped about until he found the lantern, and with great difficulty he lit it. Nugget was trembling like a leaf, but the others were, so far, more disgusted than frightened. A possible ducking, and the loss of a night’s sleep, was the most they dreaded.

But soon the presence of a real and actual danger made itself known. The wind rose to such a point of violence that it was little short of a hurricane. Trees began to go down here and there, and the passage of the gale through the forest on each shore was like the whirring flight of myriads of quail.

The tent was slightly protected by the timber on the upper point of the island; otherwise it must have yielded to the first onslaught of the storm.

“This is terrible,” whispered Ned. “If it grows any worse I’m afraid we will fare badly. The tent is strained to its utmost now.”

“Even the iron stakes won’t hold it if the wind gets through the flaps,” said Randy in a dismal tone.

They were silent for a moment, listening to the increasing fury of the gale.

“Oh! this is awful,” wailed Nugget. “The water is running down my neck, and I’m sitting in a big puddle. It’s coming in all around me.”

“You ought to be thankful you’re not sitting in the open air,” muttered Clay. “That may be the next thing.”

At Ned’s suggestionwhich, strange to say, had not occurred to any one beforethe boys overhauled their clothing bags and put on their rubber coats. Each was provided with one of those useful articles.

As they sat about the flickering flame of the lantern a more furious gust than any that had preceded came shrieking down the creek. In the midst of its passage a great crash was heard, so loud and so near that the very ground seems to tremble.

The boys could not repress a cry of terror. A tree had fallen close by, and they dreaded lest another would crush the tent.

“Gracious! what if that was the big buttonwood!” cried Randy. “Our canoes”

His agitated face finished the sentence more plainly than words could have done.

Ned rose, pulling his coat close about him, and seized the lantern.

“I must see about that,” he said hoarsely. “Stay right here. I will be back in a moment.”

Before the others could utter a word of protest, he lifted the rear end of the canvas half a foot, and, with lantern in hand, squirmed through like a snake, leaving the tent in utter darkness.