Oscar directed the boat toward it, and Sam, after taking off his coat, laid out his strength on the oars. The wind came up the river in strong, but fitful gusts, and finally raised a sea that made the little boat dance about right merrily.
"I don't think we are going to have such a splendid day, after all," observed Sam, who had grown very weatherwise during his numerous excursions down the river. "I wish this wind would hold up and let the fog settle down again. I don't like it."
"Neither does that fellow," answered Oscar, looking over his companion's shoulder toward some object further down the river. "The wind must be cutting up some strange shines down there, or else he doesn't know what he is about. Just look at him."
Sam released his hold upon the oars, allowing them to swing back alongside the skiff, and, facing about on his seat, directed his gaze down the river.
Off the head of Squaw Island, he discovered a sail-boat, which was acting in a very singular manner.
The wind was blowing straight up the river, and it would have been no trouble at all for one who understood his business to make rapid headway against the current. But it soon became plain to Oscar and Sam, both of whom were as good sailors as boys ever get to be who have had no opportunity to try their skill on deep water, that the man who was seated at the helm of the sail-boat did not understand his business.
Instead of letting out the sheet, as he ought to have done, he had drawn it taut, at the same time holding the bow of his boat up the river. The consequence was that the sail was shaking violently, and he was making no headway at all.
"That's the boat Mr. Peck is looking for," said Sam; "and if that is the way she has been handled ever since she left the village, I don't wonder that she didn't get back last night."
"Perhaps we had better go down there," replied Oscar. "That man doesn't seem to be quite up to—my gracious! There he goes! Give me an oar, quick!"