was a louder clap of thunder.

"We'll have that wind afore long," mused Jimmie.

"You 'aven't gone an' lost your way, 'ave you?" Bagg inquired in a
frightened voice.

"Wonderful queer," Jimmie replied. "We _ought_ t' be in the harbour by
this time. I 'low maybe I been pullin' too far t' the nor'east."

"No, you 'aven't," said Bagg; "you been pullin' too far t' the
sou'east."

"I 'low not," mused Jimmie.

"'Ave, too," Bagg sniffed.

Jimmie was not quite sure, after all. He wavered. Something seemed to
be wrong. It didn't _feel_ right. Some homing instinct told him that
the tickle rocks did not lie in the direction in which the bow of the
punt pointed. In fact, the whole thing was queer--very queer! But he
had not pulled too far to the southeast; he was sure of that. Perhaps,
too far to the northeast. He determined to change his course.

"Now, Bagg," said he, confidently, "I'll take you into harbour."

A clap of thunder--sounding near at hand--urged the boy on.

"Wisht you would," Bagg whimpered.

Jimmie turned the boat's head. He wondered if he had turned far
enough. Then he fancied he had turned too far. Why, of course, thought
he, he had turned too far! He swerved again towards the original
direction. This, however, did not feel just right. Again he changed
the course of the boat. He wondered if the harbour lay ahead. Or was
it the open sea? Was he pulling straight out from shore? Would the big
wind catch the little punt out of harbour?

"How's she headin' now?" he asked Bagg.

"You turned too far," said Bagg.

"Not far enough," said Jimmie.

Jimmie rowed doggedly on the course of his choosing for half an hour
or more without developing anything to give him a clue to their
whereabouts. Night added to the obscurity. They might have been on a
shoreless waste of water for all that they were able to see. The mist
made the night impenetrable. Jimmie could but dimly distinguish Bagg's
form, although he sat not more than five feet from him; soon he could
not see him at all. At last he lifted his oars and looked over the
bow.

"I don't know where we is," he said.

"No more do I," Bagg sobbed.

"I 'low we're lost," Jimmie admitted.

Just then the first gust of wind rippled the water around the boat and
went whistling into the mist.

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[4] A "tickle" is a narrow passage of water between two
islands. It is also (as here used) a narrow passage leading into
harbour.

CHAPTER X