They moved slowly along the margin of the pond, peering through the gloom as best they could, but seeing nothing of the support on which they now placed so much hope.
Nick Ribsam, however, did not fail to notice one thing—it was becoming hotter every minute and they could not wait much longer before entering the water in very self-defense.
They pushed bravely on, and when the circuit of Shark Pond was half completed, reached a point where the thick vapor lifted, or, more properly, it had not yet descended, and they stopped to rest themselves again.
"Well," exclaimed Nick, with a sigh, "some folks would call this fun, but I don't see where it comes in."
"I don't see how any one could find fun in such suffering; but, Nick, you will have to make a raft."
"I believe you are right; there isn't much chance to fasten these dry logs together, and I haven't time to build one that will hold us both."
"What will you do?"
"I will place you on it, and I'll swim along-side——"
"There's the raft! I see it! I see it!"
Nellie sprang to her feet and pointed out on the pond where, through the smoky gloom, the outlines of the half dozen logs, which Nick and several of his playmates had bound together with withes, when frolicking in the water, were seen.