"Well, that's what's the matter," said Thad, with a look of disgust. "Next time see to it that you obey orders, no matter what you happen to think."
"Then the boat's drifted away, suh, you think?" Bob remarked, eagerly.
"That's what I imagine," replied Thad. "Notice which way the wind is coming, and you can see that it throws the water up on this beach, which is wasn't doing when we left here. Once she was loose and the same breeze would make her move along past that little wooded point yonder. I reckon that if we climb out there, we'll see the boat adrift."
"But why haven't some of the boys ashore noticed it, and let out a whoop to draw our attention?" asked the boy from the Blue Ridge.
"They may have been too busy to look this way," answered Thad; "and then, besides, the boat would be carried behind the island so they couldn't see it. Come on, and we'll soon find out."
"But if we don't find it however am I going to get on the main land again?" complained Bumpus.
"Well, it would serve you right if you did have to stay here alone awhile," Thad told him, with a sternness in his face which the merry twinkle in his eyes belied. "After being so shiftless as to let such an accident happen, you surely deserve to suffer. Isn't that right, Bumpus; own up now?"
"Oh! I suppose it might be;" the fat boy admitted; "but I hope you won't think of leaving me out here all alone. I might get a scare, and be tempted to jump in; and you know what a poor swimmer I am, Thad. Oh! bully, bully, there she is, Thad, and floating along just as sassy as anything!"
The boat was not more than a hundred and fifty feet away, though by degrees moving further off all the while, as the wind and the waves influenced her movements.
"Now somebody will have to strip and go after her," said Thad. "And if you were a better swimmer, I'd say it ought to be you, Bumpus."