CHAPTER XII
CHARLIE HOUSE
“Look at that!” cried Joe.
“I should say so!” echoed his chum.
“Must have been a queer freak of the flood that could do that,” commented Mr. Piper.
“Me for a picture!” exclaimed Joe, as he got out the camera.
“Is there light enough?” questioned Blake.
“I guess so—for a short run of film,” answered his chum, and then, as the house, in its queer position, drifted down stream, and as the motor boat approached it, the occupants seeking a safe place to tie up for the night, Joe got a series of moving pictures.
“There it goes—stranded!” cried Blake, when his friend had finished grinding away at the crank of the camera. And, as he spoke, the house came to a sudden stop.
Probably the roof which was submerged in the water, had struck against a sandbar, or some high place in the land that was under water.
At any rate, the upside-down dwelling turned slowly about, settled a little to one side, and then remained stationary in the water. It had stranded in a small cove, in which the moving picture boys, and their two friends, had also decided to take shelter for the night.