“I don’t believe—” began Cora, when suddenly the boat ran against an obstruction. The occupants were almost thrown off their feet. A grinding, scraping sound was heard and Cora threw out the gears.
“Why—why!” she cried, as she looked out into the dark mist of the storm. “We’ve run ashore!”
CHAPTER IX—TIED UP
Silence followed Cora’s startling announcement—that is comparative silence, for the rain, hissing into the river, and pelting on the deck and cabin roof, made quite a noise.
“What’s that you say?” demanded Walter, arising from a stern locker where he had been talking more or less nonsense to Hazel.
“Run ashore?” echoed Jack.
“At least I suppose it’s the shore,” said Cora, who had stopped the engine, the controls being near the wheel. “There aren’t any islands in this part of the river; are there?”
“Not one,” said Jack. “It is the shore,” he confirmed after a look through the cabin window.
“Any damage done, Sis?”
“Not to the shore, at any rate. We didn’t hit very hard. I saw something looming up through the mist and slowed down.”