"It isn't Mirror Lake to-night," said Belle, with a little shiver. "It's more like Foamy Lake."
"I don't think I'd want to go out in a canoe to-night," returned Phil, who was beside her.
"I think we are going to have quite a storm," said Laura. "Just listen to that wind!"
With fitful gusts tearing around the bungalows, no one felt much like going to bed. About ten o'clock came a hard downpour, lasting for half an hour. Then the wind died away, and gradually the rain ceased.
"I guess the worst of it is over," announced Mrs. Wadsworth, presently. "I think we may as well retire." And shortly after that all of the inmates of both bungalows were in bed.
For a long while Dave could not sleep. As had been the case the night previous, he tumbled and tossed on his couch, thinking of the trouble that had come to him. But at last tired nature claimed its own, and he sank into a profound slumber, from which he did not awaken until some time after sunrise.
"Hello! I must have overslept," he declared, as he leaped up, to see that his chums were almost dressed.
Dave was just finishing his toilet, and the other boys and some of the girls had started to walk down to the dock to look at the lake, when a cry came from the kitchen of the bungalow.
"Mrs. Wadsworth! Mr. Porter!" came a call from the hired girl. "Please come here!"
"What is it, Mary?" asked Mrs. Wadsworth, as she appeared from her own room.