It was with no pleasant sensations that the boys found themselves for the second time adrift in the darkness. Not that they had any fears of the journey that lay before them; that was a trifling matter compared to the loss of sleep and the indignity of being routed out of their snug beds through no fault of their own.

There was no open complaint, however, and for ten or fifteen minutes the silence of the night was disturbed only by the low swish of the paddles, as the four canoes moved abreast down midstream.

"This thing is getting monotonous, and I hope it won't happen again," remarked Ned finally, in a very grave voice. "If you fellows had listened to me this morning we would be sound asleep this minute in some place down the creek, instead of floating here in the dark with a forced paddle of ten miles ahead of us."

"It's hard luck, that's a fact," muttered Clay.

"No luck about it," retorted Ned. "It's pure recklessness, and Randy is chiefly to blame."

"No more than the rest of you," growled Randy. "I wasn't the only one that wanted to stay."

"I don't mean that," said Ned, "though of course the trouble began there. I refer to your foolish act a little while ago. If you hadn't fired that salt cartridge the men would have gone quietly away, and we could have remained where we were until morning. Now you have made a bitter enemy, and if he don't give us future annoyance it will only be through the intercession of Batters' brother—provided he has enough influence over his companion.

"I feel glad in one way that we stayed. Batters and Joe are good hearted fellows, if they are rough on the outside, and it was a pleasure to become acquainted with them. I hope their brother Bug will turn over a new leaf some day, and be allowed to go home.

"But that wasn't what I started in to talk about," resumed Ned after a brief pause. "The fact is, Randy, that you must be more careful in future. You have been to blame for every one of our scrapes so far, and if you intend to keep this up we may as well abandon the cruise and go home. This is the second warning I've had to give you. The other one don't seem to have done much good."

"I think you are getting pretty meddlesome, Ned Chapman," exclaimed Randy in a sullen tone; "when I want any advice from you I'll ask for it."

"Don't give way to your temper, now," returned Ned quietly, "I'm talking for the common good, and you know it in your heart."

"Ned's right," exclaimed Clay. "This cruise has been a chapter of misadventures from the start, and every one of them lies at your door."

Randy drove his paddle into the water with furious strokes, and was soon a dozen yards ahead of his companions.

"I'll give you fellows a chance to get out of the dumps," he called back angrily. "I hope you'll be in a better humor when we meet again."

Then he drove the canoe forward so rapidly that the dip of the paddle was soon faint in the distance.

"Let him go," said Ned. "He can't come to any harm, and it will give him a good chance to cool down. That's the main trouble with Randy. Up comes his temper at the least word of rebuke, and though he knows that he is wrong, his self will and anger won't let him admit it. I believe he will take this warning to heart though."

Clay and Nugget did not reply. The former's conscience was a little bit uneasy, for he knew that his imprudent utterance had started Randy off in anger.

The three boys paddled on silently for a while, and then Nugget managed to ground the Imp on a concealed ledge of rocks. It required the united efforts of his companions to dislodge it, and even then it was a labor of nearly five minutes' duration. A canvas canoe must be handled very carefully when among the rocks.

About this time the moon came out from a bank of fleecy clouds, and the light—feeble though it was—enabled the boys to make better speed, and to keep a watch ahead for shoals.

A moment later they wished with all their hearts that the moon was on the other side of the globe, for a bend in the channel revealed a fire on the right bank, a short distance below. The flames were partly screened by a fringe of bushes, but not sufficiently to prevent the ruddy light from flashing far across the water.

"That must be Bug Batters's camp," whispered Ned.

"It will be a ticklish operation to get by if the men are on the watch. We can manage to, though, if we are prudent and don't lose our heads. Don't breathe a word or make any noise with your paddles. Just stick close to me."

Ned headed for the left bank, which was thickly wooded, and paddled slowly and noiselessly along the very edge. The others followed his example, and in a short time the three canoes were directly opposite the fire. Two dark figures squatting beside it could be plainly seen. The dancing reflection of the flames revealed the boat pulled partially out of water, and stretched far beyond mid channel.

It was a thrilling moment. Discovery at first seemed inevitable, for the men were facing the creek. But as no alarm came, and the canoes crept deeper into the friendly gloom, the boys began to breathe more easily.

They did not relax their caution until the fire was two or three hundred yards in the rear. Then Ned signified that the danger was over by paddling boldly and swiftly toward mid-channel.

"I hope we have seen the last of Bug Batters and his companion," he said, "and I really believe that they won't give us any more trouble."

"I'm glad to hear you say so," replied Clay. "That's my opinion, too. If we put about ten miles between us and them we ought to feel safe."

"Better make it twenty," remarked Nugget uneasily. "Then we will be twice as safe."

"Oh, that won't be necessary," laughed Ned. "I say, fellows, it must have been a pretty stiff ordeal for Randy to go by that fire, within sight of the man he peppered with salt."

"Well, I should say so," returned Clay. "When we catch up with him we'll ask him how he felt."

"But that won't be for some time to come," said Ned, "unless we move a little faster. Try to keep up with me, and don't lag behind."

He started off with short, quick strokes, and after a brief race the others settled down abreast of him.

The moon outlined the limits of the creek very distinctly, shining first from one side, then from the other, as the channel followed its tortuous course. The water continued deep and fairly swift, and during the next hour and a half the boys must have paddled no less than six or seven miles.

Nothing was seen of Randy, but this fact was easily explained, since he had gained considerable on his companions at the start, and had moreover a light and easily running canoe.

Presently the sky to the eastward became faintly streaked with gray, and the close night air was succeeded by a fragrant and delicious breeze. Dawn came on apace, heralded by the singing of birds, and the splashing of fish in search of the early insect. The mist began to rise from the water, and in some distant barnyard hungry cattle lowed.

"There is some compensation in night travel," said Ned. "It will be a treat to see the sun come up. Two or three miles more and then we'll hunt a snug camping place, and have a plunge in the creek, and a good breakfast on top of it, and sleep until afternoon. I don't feel very tired just now, but I'm ravenously hungry."

"So am I," echoed Clay and Nugget in one breath.

As the daylight advanced the boys paddled on with light hearts. In the long level stretch that was now ahead of them no sign of Randy was visible. As the next bend—an unusually sharp one—drew near, a dull, roaring sound was heard.

"That must be a bit of swift water," observed Ned; "I hope it's long enough to give us a good spin."

"But won't it be dangerous?" asked Nugget uneasily.

"Of course not," replied Clay. "There couldn't be any danger on a small stream like this, and besides Batters told us everything was smooth for twelve miles ahead."

It is more than probable that when Batters made this statement he had in mind his own safe and bulky craft, which could have stood any amount of rough usage without upsetting. But this version of the matter did not occur to the boys. They confidently paddled on, hoping to find a stretch of swift water that would give them a lift on their journey.

Just at the commencement of the curve a spit of rocks and trees jutted out from the right shore. As the boys were whirled swiftly around this, the first brief glimpse of what lay beyond proved far from satisfactory.

The creek narrowed to half its former width, and the greater part of even this contracted channel was rendered unnavigable by a long bar of gravel and grass, over which an inch or so of water crawled sluggishly. The main channel—only half a dozen feet wide—headed abruptly to the right, and swept at breakneck speed in a perfect half circle under the outwardly projecting base of a steep and wooded hill. Here and there the bushes hung down to meet the madly tossing waves, and swayed violently.

It was already too late to turn back, and it was equally out of the question to cut across the swift rushing current and gain the shallow bar. Speedy disaster would have resulted from that step.

Ned was half a canoe's length in advance, and without a second's delay he swung the bow of the Pioneer around to meet the curve of the channel.

"Paddle toward the left!—the left!" he shouted hoarsely to his companions. "Keep your heads down when you come to the bushes."

Ned had no chance to say more. His own affairs required his undivided attention. With a dizzy jerk he swung into the half circle, rising and falling with the huge waves. A few tremendous paddle strokes deflected him to the left, and fortunately he cleared the outer fringe of bushes.

Just when the worst seemed to be over the Pioneer ran broadside on a submerged rock, tipped instantly, and out went Ned head over heels.

He was dragged clear to the bottom of the rapids before he could gain a foothold. Then, waist deep in water, he grabbed the Pioneer as it drifted by him, and waded with it to a narrow landing place at the base of the hill.

Even less fortunate was Nugget. The dizzy whirl of the current and the jolting motion of the waves so terrified him that he dropped his paddle and clutched the combing with both hands. Then, as the bushes directly ahead caught his eye, he threw up his arms and seized them.

The next instant the canoe was whisked from under him, leaving him clinging to the frail support, shrieking with terror and bobbing up and down on the waves. He remained in this position only a few seconds. Clay's canoe struck him obliquely, and the concussion caused it to swing broadside and upset. Both lads were rolled over and over to the foot of the rapids, where Ned helped them and their canoes to shore.