“This is what all campers get I suppose,” remarked George.
“They certainly do,” agreed Grant. “Some of them get it worse than this too.”
“Do you suppose our tent is still there?” inquired John.
“Let’s hope so,” exclaimed George fervently. “We’d be in a nice fix if we found it blown away when we got back.”
“If we do get back,” said Fred dolefully.
“What’s the matter with you, Fred?” demanded Grant. “You don’t think we’re all going to die or be killed, do you?”
“I don’t know. This is a bad storm and we can’t see where we are.”
“But the anch—”
There was a sudden jolt. Every boy was almost thrown from his seat as the boat came to a quick stop. Then the bow swung slowly around and a moment later the Balsam was pointed straight into the wind, her anchor chain taut.
“We’re aground,” cried George.