"We've got tangled in the drift, just as I told you we would," answered Jake Elliott from the bow, where he sat, paddle in hand, he being on watch at the time.
"Just as you meant that we should," answered Sam. "You've deliberately paddled us out of the current into a drift hammock, you sneaking scoundrel," continued Sam, now thoroughly angry, seizing Jake by the shoulders, and throwing him violently into the bottom of the boat. "I have a notion to give you a good thrashing right here, or to set you ashore and go on without you."
"Do it, Captain! Do it! He deserves it," cried the boys, but Sam had made up his mind not to give way to his temper, however provoking Jake's conduct might be, and as soon as he could master himself, he renewed his resolution, which had been broken only in the moment of sudden awakening.
The boat was not damaged in the least, but her position was a difficult one from which to extricate her. She lay on the upper side of a pile of drift which had lodged against some trees, and a floating tree had swept down against her side, pinning her to the hammock, as such drift piles are called in the South. The work of freeing her required all of Sam's judgment, as well as all the boys' strength, but within half an hour, or a little more, the boat was again in the stream.
"Now," said Sam, speaking very calmly, "we've lost a good deal of sleep and must make it up. Jake Elliott, you will take the paddle again, and keep it till sunrise."
"Well, but what if he runs us into another snarl?" asked Sid Russell, uneasily.
"He won't make any more mistakes," replied Sam.
"How can you be sure of that?" queried Tom.
"Because I have whispered in his ear," said Sam.
What Sam had whispered in Jake's ear was this:—