"Sure—fine," whispered Tom.
His hand closed with a tighter grip on that of Dave's. Then his eyes fell on a curious spectacle.
Close by, partly submerged, was the "Dart." A lone lantern illuminated with a feeble, yellow glow the heads of his companions, all staring at him anxiously.
"You make me think of a lot of pumpkins."
That is what Tom meant to say, but the cold and a strange weakness prevented such a lengthy effort.
Presently he heard Jim Havens remark, "Tommy's all right, fellows. Let's skip before we get stuck in the mud." Then, almost before he realized it, they had left the treacherous water and were climbing up a bank.
"I feel like a beautiful mess," groaned Havens, when they came to a halt.
"I'd like to have a good, square look at you," returned Bob, grimly. "I want to laugh, but can't. It isn't any island for you to-night, eh, Havens?"
"Not unless I swim back," was the reply. "Something is holding the 'Dart' fast. Awful lucky we weren't spilled out in the middle of the lake. Come along, fellows," he added. "Let's get our blood in circulation;" and he started off on a trot.
Bedraggled and miserable, his companions followed through the rain. The exercise began to warm their chilled bodies and the prospect of reaching shelter spurred them on.