Just as the sharp turn was being made, the sound of oars reached their ears.
"H'm, some of the night-picnickers, now, perhaps," muttered Sam.
He half arose, in order to get a better view, and at that instant a rowboat shot out of the passageway directly across their bow. A collision seemed inevitable.
The Ramblers gave a lusty shout; Sam swung the helm hard down, and the sail rattled to the deck in a jiffy, but despite these efforts, the sailboat struck the other a glancing blow near the stern.
The occupant of the rowboat, however, had used his oars skilfully, and escaped being thrown into the water by a narrow margin. The two craft grated past each other, and quickly came to a stop. Then the oarsman, with a couple of strokes, drew up alongside the "Speedy."
As the rays of the lantern shot across his face, the boys were profoundly astonished to recognize Mr. Fenton.
"I suppose I must plead guilty to having made a blunder," said the latter, after replying to the boys' salutations; "but surely the last thing I expected was to encounter a boat. I must thank you for having handled yours so nicely that I was spared a wetting."
"Good thing there isn't much wind," was Sam Randall's response. Then he added, abruptly, "We saw a light on top of the bluff, Mr. Fenton, and thought it would be a good idea to cruise around a bit to see if we could find out what it was."
"Not remarkable, then, that we should run across each other."
"Suppose you saw the bonfire? It's been making quite an illumination."