There was no fear of the Gleam sinking, as she bore no ballast to carry her down, and had air-tight compartments in both bow and stern. Nevertheless, the position of the boys was one of great peril, for the boat was right in the channel leading to the rapids at the lower end of the lake, in the direction of which the wind was now blowing. To get into these rapids meant utter destruction for both boys and boat, yet to keep out of them was impossible without help, while to swim ashore was far beyond their powers.
They shouted and shrieked for aid, but there was no one in sight to hear them, and soon the storm burst upon them in full fury, blotting out the shore on both sides, and threatening to beat them off the boat as it tossed up and down in the white-caps.
How bitterly Mort regretted having ventured beyond the boom, and how fervently he vowed never to do so again if he could only be saved this time!
When the squall passed and the air cleared, he saw that they were fast drawing near the rapids.
"O Charlie," he groaned, "why did you make me go outside the boom?"
Charlie made no reply. He could think of nothing else but his imminent danger.
Steadily and surely the Gleam drifted downward. In another fifteen minutes she would be in the remorseless grasp of the rapids. The wind went down almost to a calm, but the current grew stronger, so that there was no slacking of her speeding toward destruction.
The boys held desperately on to the keel, saying nothing to each other, but praying as best each could.
On, on the boat moved. Oh, was there no chance of help? Must they go down, to death in sight of so many homes?
A couple of hundred yards above the rapids was a floating stage, strongly moored, which was used by the men looking after the saw-logs that came down the river in great droves from time to time. As they neared this a bright thought flashed into Mort's mind.