"I will," replied Randy.
"And I," added Clay.
"One is enough," said Ned. "I'll take Randy. If the wind prevents us from getting back don't you fellows be alarmed. Keep out of the rain as much as possible, and if your clothes get wet put on dry ones."
There was no time to lose, for the tent had drifted into the fierce current below the island, and was already out of sight. There was great danger of its sinking as soon as the canvas became thoroughly soaked.
Hastily untying their canoes from the roots of the tree, Ned and Randy paddled away in the darkness, leaving Clay and Nugget to make the best of their desertion.
It was a bad night to be on the water. The storm was still raging, and the surface of the creek was lashed with great foamy billows. The boys did not find the tent immediately.
In fact the wind and the current together drove them a quarter of a mile down stream before they could control their canoes sufficiently to head them around. And even when they accomplished this they found it out of the question to return. Not one inch could they gain in the teeth of the blast, though they paddled hard and fast.
Fortunately the canoes were empty, and this rendered them safe and buoyant, so that they rose lightly on the crest of every wave. They would surely have swamped had the usual loads been in the hatches.
"We stand a poor show of getting back to the island this night," cried Randy in a loud enough tone for his companion to hear. "I'll be satisfied if we find the tent. Do you think it is still afloat?"
With a half a dozen desperate strokes Ned then brought the Pioneer alongside the Water Sprite.