"I'll drown," wailed Stacy.
"Oh, stop it and get a boat," urged Ned Rector's voice.
"Why didn't you pile in hemlock boughs, as I told you to do, then you wouldn't have got wet," rebuked Tad. "Are you lying in the water?"
"Yes. What'll I do?"
"You'll get wetter, so far as I am able to see."
About this time Professor Zepplin in his pajamas was charging out of his tent. He was drenched in a second.
"Guide, isn't there a higher and drier place that we can get to?" demanded the Professor.
"Yassir. Nassir."
"We are in a pocket, Professor. We'll have to take our medicine," called Tad.
"I don't like my medicine so cold," wailed the fat boy.