“About a mile.”
“Oh, that isn’t so bad.”
“We’ve got to go slow around here,” called back Gif. “The lake is shallow and there are a great number of snags. Don’t hit any of them and upset.”
As the boys continued to row the wind increased in violence, and soon whitecaps surrounded them.
“Maybe we’d bettah pull in closer to shore,” suggested Jeff, as one of the whitecaps came over the side of the rowboat, covering them with spray.
“Oh, we’ll head straight for the bungalow,” answered Gif. “Come on, Fred, bend to it!” and they began to row with a will and the others followed.
A quarter of a mile more was covered when the wind seemed suddenly to descend on the three boats with added violence.
“Gee! we can’t make any headway against this,” gasped Fred.
“Hadn’t we better turn toward shore?” called out Andy, from the second boat, which was close behind.
“Perhaps we’d better,” was the answer. “I don’t believe this blow will last any great length of time.”