We all looked at each other, we all sighed. One suggested sitting as we were all bolt upright, with the boat moored to some bank—others thought a walk might prove an agreeable change—the wisest held their tongues, thought much, and said little.
We were in the middle of the stream, when, without a word of explanation, our steersman suddenly turned the bow of our frail bark right across the water, and with one rush her nose hit the bank; our speed was so great that we were all shaken from our seats, as the boat bounded off again, but the pilot was an old experienced hand, and, by some wondrous gymnastic feat, he got her side sufficiently near the bank for our boy, with a rope in his hand, to spring upon terra firma and hold us fast, without shattering our bark completely to pieces with the force of our sudden arrival.
"Is this fog usual?" we asked the pilot.
"No, very unusual, only after such intense heat as we have had to-day. If I had not landed you at this spot and now, another yard would have made doing so impossible, for this is the top of the Pyhäkoski rapid, the most dangerous of all, and it is thirteen miles long."
What a plight! Hungry, tired, miserable, cold, to be suddenly turned, whether we wished it or not, out of our only refuge and home.
"Close by here," he continued, "is a peasant's house—you must go there for some hours."
We looked; but the fog was so thick we could see nothing, therefore, without a word of remonstrance, we followed our pilot, plodding through grass soaked in moisture which reached to our knees, feeling very chilled, wet, and weary, but all trying to keep stout hearts and turn cheery faces to misfortune.
Yes, there—as if sent as a blessing from heaven—we saw a little house peeping through the fog.
We went to the door; we knocked, we knocked again. No answer. We shook the door; it was locked. We called; no one replied. We walked round the house and tried the windows—all closed, securely closed. We knocked and called louder than before. Still no answer.
What disappointment! The house was deserted. On the very eve of shelter we were baffled. Was it not enough to fill our hearts with despair? We could not go back, for we had nowhere to go; we could not sit on the bank, for that fog brooded evil. Some one suggested bursting open the door, for shelter we must have, and began rattling away with that purpose, when, lo! a voice, an awful voice called "Hulloa!"