"Wouldn't care to be out here alone," Dick chimed in. "Think of getting tangled up in that marsh. Don't run in too close, Bob; you'll get the propeller all choked up with weeds. Listen to those dogs barking. How far away do you suppose they are?"
"Two miles from nowhere, and that's here," yawned Dave. "I can tell you, nothing will disturb my rest to-night."
"Switch off the power, and heave your anchor," commanded Bob. "The current is swinging us around, but it doesn't make any difference. Now for supper."
The boiled ham, bacon, and canned corn, with coffee and preserves, rapidly disappeared.
"Don't like this place a little bit," growled Tom; "wish we were on shore. Say, doesn't that water look black?"
"What color would you expect it to be—blue?" asked Dave. "You can hear it gurgling and swishing against the sides of the boat, but there isn't even a sparkle to be seen."
"I'm glad there isn't," said Bob; "for in that case it would seem like being in some enchanted region, and we all might have bad dreams. It certainly is black, though."
The "Rambler" had been moored about twenty-five feet from the shore, in a place which was about as desolate as could well be imagined. The stars were partially obscured, and not a light twinkled on either shore. A barely perceptible patch of light, low down in the sky, indicated the position of the town and the amusement park.
"I think I'll turn in," said Dave, finally; "I certainly do feel tired."
"Sleep on one side of the boat, then," said Sam. "All the rest on the other ought to keep the 'tub' from sinking."