"I'm sorry to tell you that there's only a slim chance of that ever coming about," Thad remarked, right then and there.
"Then you believe she was smashed worse'n any of us thought was the case; is that it, Thad?" asked Giraffe.
"No, it isn't that so much as another thing I've noticed lately, that's going to upset our calculations," replied the scout-master.
"Tell us what that might be, won't you?" pleaded Bumpus, with a doleful shake of his head; as though he might be beginning to believe in the truth of that old saying to the effect that "troubles never come singly."
"You may remember," Thad went on to say, "that when you asked my opinion be fore about the boat staying where we left it, I said there was a good chance we'd find her there in the morning if the wind didn't shift?"
"And now you mean that it's doing that very same thing, do you?" Giraffe asked.
"If you'd taken the trouble to notice all sorts of things, that you had always ought to as a true scout," the other told him, "you'd have found that out for yourself. The fact of the matter is that when we first reached this place under the ledge the wind seemed to find a way in here, and make the fire flare at times. Look at it now, and you'll see that it's as steady as anything; yet you can hear the rush of the wind through the treetops just the same. It's turned around as much as twenty degrees, I should say."
"And that's bad for the boat, ain't it?" Bumpus wanted to know.
"I'm afraid so," the scout-master replied; "because it will get the full force of both wind and heavy seas. Long before morning it will most likely be carried out into deep water, and disappear from sight. I think we've seen the last of the Chippeway Belle, boys."
"But, Thad," observed Giraffe, "how about that anchor rope? You know we carried it ashore, and fastened it to a rock. Would that break, now? It was a dandy rope, and nearly new."