“Where?”
“I can’t think.”
“Look in your pockets again,” said Dan.
“I did.”
“Well, did it again, then.” Gerald obeyed but had to shake his head when the search was over.
“I observe,” remarked Tom, as though speaking to himself, “that yonder lies what looks from here to be a perfectly good farmhouse. I presume that there are matches there and that we might be able to borrow one or two of the priceless things.”
“It’s a half-mile paddle and a half-mile walk after that,” said Alf dejectedly. “Still, you might try it.” Tom looked pained and surprised.
“Oh, I wasn’t thinking of trying it,” he assured them. “I’m not what you’d call an accomplished canoeist, Alf. I haven’t your skill, you know.”
“Well, I’m not going away up there all alone,” said Alf positively. “The wind’s too strong. If one of you fellows will go with me——”
“I know!” cried Gerald. He turned and sprang toward the bank, the others following. He clambered into the nearest canoe and began to peer about. Then he went to the second and repeated the operation and in a moment exhibited what at a few yards away had all the earmarks of a match.