“I should say!” agreed Hal, letting the boat drift, and with eyes and ears drinking in the novelty of it all. “Where will we make for?”
“I don’t care,” responded Ned. “See! there’s a barn.”
Sure enough, directly ahead was a small, unpainted, weather-beaten barn just visible between the tree-trunks. Hal began to scull gently, and as they drew nearer they saw a house, also, not far from it.
The scene was rather pathetic—this home, lonely and deserted, standing waist-deep in the midst of the waters, its only companions the silent forest trees.
“The folks who lived here must have skipped in a big hurry,” observed Ned. “They didn’t even stop to close their up-stairs windows.”
“Perhaps that’s the way they got out,” suggested Hal.
“I hear a dog!” suddenly Ned exclaimed.
“He’s shut in the house,” said Hal, poising his oar and listening.
“Poor fellow! He’s around somewhere, that’s sure,” agreed Ned. “Let’s go nearer and see about him.”
With the howling of the dog to urge them, they sculled forward. First in their path was the barn; and with a change in their angle of view Ned cried: