The current was indeed swift and treacherous. It swept toward the east shore with almost resistless force, and the rowboat was like an eggshell in its grasp.
“Look out for the log ahead!” cried Jule, as the boat swirled around.
But there was more than one log ahead. It seemed that a whole drive of logs, or timbers, had been caught by the flood and whirled down stream. The boys backed water, and Jule did all he could to keep out of the mass, but the current was remorseless.
The boat struck a great timber and the force of the shock and the cracking sound which followed told of an injury to the craft. Mose stood up in the boat, for water was now coming in!
“This seems to be our good-luck night!” Case grumbled, in a sarcastic tone, as the boat lurched against a great log and came near tipping over.
“There’s a raft ahead, anyway!” shouted Jule. “We can ride down on that!”
“Until it takes a notion to dump us into the drink!” complained Case.
The boat filled fast, and Captain Joe mounted the prow and looked longingly toward the bobbing timber raft just ahead. From the raft he looked back to the boys.
“I reckon the dog has more sense than we have!” Alex. exclaimed. “We’ll have to take to the raft, all right, so here goes.”
“Wait for a bit of light!” urged Case. “The moon will be out in a second.”