"Well, we can be ready, and if the chance comes, make the plunge," Bandy-legs continued, "We're all so wringing wet as it is that if we had to jump in and swim a piece it wouldn't hurt any. Just remember that I'm ready if the rest of you are. I'm not caring any too much for this sort of a boat. It keeps on turning around too many times, like a tub in a tub race, and you never know what minute you're going to be dumped out, if it takes a notion to kick up its heels and dive."
"Don't look a g-g-gift horse in the m-m-mouth, Bandy-legs!" advised Toby.
Steve was manifesting more and more restlessness.
"Max, you've been down this far before, I reckon, even if most all our camping trips were to the north and west of Carson?" he asked, turning to the leader.
"Yes, several times, to tell you the truth," admitted Max; "but with the flood on, things look so different ashore that it's pretty hard to tell where you are. Why do you ask me that, Steve?"
"Do you remember whether there's a bend about a mile or so above the French farm house?" continued Steve.
After reflecting for several seconds Max gave his answer.
"Yes, you're right, there is; and I should say it must lie about a mile or so this side of the place."
"I was trying to figure it all out," Steve told him, "and it's this way it looks like to me. The current will sweep us across the river when we swing around that same bend, won't it?"
"Pretty far, for a fact, Steve, because it's apt to run the same way even if the river is far out of its regular channel now."