“How long will that be?”
“I haven’t any idea. I haven’t any matches and I can’t see the face of my watch. If I can judge by my feelings it ought to be about the week after next. It seems to me we have been out here forever.”
Fred did not respond, however, and for a time the boat drifted on in silence.
“What’s that ahead?” demanded John, abruptly pointing as he spoke toward the bow.
Instantly both boys were peering eagerly in the direction indicated by John, and, after a brief silence, Fred said, “That’s land ahead.”
“That’s what I think,” said John. “What do you suppose it is? Do you think it is Mackinac Island?”
“More likely it is Paris, France,” retorted Fred scornfully. “You don’t suppose we’re anywhere near Mackinac Island, do you?”
“I don’t know. I know I wish we were.”
“So do I, but we’re not. Now what shall we do? Shall we go ashore, or shall we keep out here on the lake?”
“We had better go ashore,” said John. “At least we can row in near enough to see what it’s like, anyway.”