Heavy, rolling clouds shut from view the surrounding mountains; drops of rain began to fall, and every moment the "Speedy" buried her nose in the white-capped waves, while flying spray soaked the occupants.
The quantity of water pouring over the gunwale assumed such proportions that Dick and Bob Somers began bailing.
Hemlock and Promontory Islands soon loomed up clearly, the latter grim and majestic in the gray light.
"Great sport, this," cried Dave. "We're gaining fast, Bob. Mind yourself, Sam. This boat's a bit too narrow for stormy weather. There goes the 'Spray' into the passageway."
As the wind blew stronger and the angry, hissing water broke against the boat with great force, Tom Clifton's fears increased. He kept looking at the shore, and each time the "Speedy" heeled far over felt a shiver run through him.
"Look out, Sam," he shouted, as a particularly violent gust bore down upon them. "Look out! Jiminy, we'll be over in a minute."
But the "Speedy" bravely righted herself, and struggled ahead.
This was repeated so many times that the boys began to think they were experiencing the worst that was in store for them, and that after all there was no real danger.
"Fine sport—fine," said Dave Brandon, at length. "Just fierce enough to be enjoyable."
"Right you are," added Sam, emphatically.