back, if it takes
a week--that is, if you're game?"

"Come on," said Henry Burns quietly.

CHAPTER II

TURNED ADRIFT

Soon they were on their way again, with the sky lightening a little and
the rain almost ceased. They plunged through the tangle of dripping
brakes, down to the shore; pushed off once more in midstream, and
started back the way they had come.

There was not quite so much spirit to their paddling as there had been
on the way up. Every stroke had meant to their minds, then, just so much
of their journey accomplished. Now they knew they were striving only to
put themselves on the right track again, and that there would be four
wet miles of wasted effort. However, they were still strong, and the
canoe went rapidly down stream.

The two miles seemed nearer four when Henry Burns suddenly pointed with
his paddle ahead and said, soberly, "There's the place, Jack. I saw it,
coming up, but I thought it was only a patch of bull-rushes. We can't
get a canoe through, anyway. Let's go ashore and have a look at the
country."

They paddled in and scrambled up the bank. Sure enough, there was what
would be a small brook, at some stages of water, coming in from across
country; doubtless with water enough, in the spring of the year, to
float a canoe; but now impassable. They followed it up through a wheat
field to a road, from which, to their relief, a stream of about the
dimensions of the one they had been following--not quite so large--was
to be seen. A horse drawing a wagon at a jog trot came down the road,
and they accosted the occupant of the seat.

"How many miles to Mill Stream by the way of Dark Stream?" he said,
repeating their question. "Well, I reckon it's fifteen or sixteen. Water
enough? Oh, yes, mebbe, except p'raps in spots. Goin' round to Benton,
you say? Sho! Don't esactly envy yer the jaunt. Guess there'll be more
rain bime-by. Good day. Giddap."

"Wall, I reckon," said Henry Burns, dryly, imitating the man's manner of
speech, "that I don't ask any more of these farmers how many miles we've
got to travel. According to his reckoning, we'd get to Benton sometime
to-morrow night. The next man might say 'twas fifty miles to Benton, and
then you'd want to turn back."

"Never!" exclaimed Jack Harvey, grimly. "Let's go for the canoe."

They got the canoe on their shoulders, and made short work of the carry.
But it was after ten o'clock when they set their craft afloat in Dark
Stream; and th