"I can hardly see to steer," said Cora, peering out of the rain-drenched windows of the cabin.

"Want me to take the wheel?" asked Jack.

"No, thank you, I think not. We ought to be almost there now. But I don't know about going over the mountain trail in this storm."

"Maybe it will stop," suggested Belle.

"It doesn't act so," commented Walter.

The thunder had almost ceased, and the lightning was not so startling, but the rain came down harder than ever.

"I declare I can't see either bank of the river," Cora said. "I hope I shan't run into anything."

They kept on for perhaps an hour longer, the rain never ceasing. But they were good and dry in the snug motor boat.

"I think we'd better put ash.o.r.e and find out where we are," suggested Jack, after a bit. "We may have run past Riverhead, Cora."

"Run past it! How could we, Jack? The river's almost too shallow for a rowboat past Riverhead. We'd be aground."

"Not necessarily. They've lately dredged a channel about a mile beyond, to let boats bring ice down from the houses up above. You may be in the channel," Walter said.

"I don't believe-" began Cora, when suddenly the boat ran against an obstruction. The occupants were almost thrown off their feet. A grinding, sc.r.a.ping sound was heard and Cora threw out the gears.

"Why-why!" she cried, as she looked out into the dark mist of the storm.

"We've run ash.o.r.e!"

CHAPTER IX-TIED UP

Silence followed Cora's startling announcement-that is comparative silence, for the rain, hissing into the river, and pelting on the deck and cabin roof, made quite a noise.

"What's that you say?" demanded Walter, arising from a stern locker where he had been talking more or less nonsense to Hazel.

"Run ash.o.r.e?" echoed Jack.

"At least I suppose it's the sh.o.r.e," said Cora, who had stopped the engine, the controls being near the wheel. "There aren't any islands in this part of the river; are there?"

"Not one," said Jack. "It is the sh.o.r.e," he confirmed after a look through the cabin window.

"Any damage done, Sis?"

"Not to the sh.o.r.e, at any rate. We didn't hit very hard. I saw something looming up through the mist and slowed down."

"We must be up to Riverhead all right," remarked Bess. "Though I haven't noticed anything like a town."

"You couldn't notice much of anything in this rain," Cora said. "We're not aground, at all events," for they could feel the boat moving down stream under the influence of the current.

"Switch on the searchlight and see if we can discover where we are,"

suggested Belle.

"Good idea," commented Captain Cora. A push of a b.u.t.ton and the small but powerful searchlight, mounted amidships on the cabin roof, gleamed out. It was operated by a storage battery, which, in turn, was charged by a small dynamo connected to the engine fly wheel. And by means of a worm gear, operated by a wheel near the steering apparatus, the light could be deflected in any direction.

Cora trained it on the bank. Looking through the rain-covered windows of the cabin the girls, and their boy guests, saw a water-soaked bank, covered with bushes and rushes. It was dusk now.

"That doesn't look like Riverhead," commented Jack.

"More like river-end," said Paul. "Where in the world are we?"

"Don't ask me!" exclaimed Cora, a trifle nervously. "I'm sure I did the best I could in the mist."

"Of course you did, Sis," said her brother soothingly. "It isn't any one's fault. We're all right. The boat doesn't seem to be damaged by trying to poke her pretty nose into the bank, and if we can't go on to Camp Surprise in the darkness and rain we can go to some hotel and stay.

There's one in Riverhead."

Just then, into the radiance of the searchlight stepped a man clad in yellow oilskins, rubber boots and with a sou'wester on his head.

"I'll ask him," said Jack. "He'll tell us where we are."

The individual-evidently a fisherman, as indicated by his unjointed pole and a basket-stopped in some surprise as he saw the big motor boat so close to sh.o.r.e, with lights gleaming and the powerful beams of the one on the cabin roof setting him out in bold relief in its glare.

"How far to Riverhead, if you please?" called Jack, sliding back one of the cabin windows.

"Riverhead?" cried the man, and surprise was plain in his voice. "Why, Riverhead's over on the Chelton side, about ten miles from here."

"On the Chelton side!" repeated Jack. "Isn't this the Chelton?"

"No. This is Batter Creek," the man explained. "The Chelton river branches off to the right, six miles down. You must have taken the left turn where Batter Creek runs into it. First you know you'll be up in the swamp."

"Good-_night_!" cried Jack, with a tragic gesture.

"On Batter Creek!" echoed Walter.

"Ten miles from Riverhead!" was Cora's gasping remark.

"No wonder the poor boat ran ash.o.r.e," commented Bess. "She'd rather do that than get lost in a swamp."

"So this is Batter Creek," went on Jack. "I see how it happened. You steered over to the left at the junction, Cora, instead of following the right sh.o.r.e-I mean the right hand sh.o.r.e."

"I suppose I must have," Cora admitted. "But I couldn't see in all that storm."

"Of course not," said Hazel, slipping her arm around Cora's waist. "It wasn't your fault."

"Certainly not," added Walter and Paul in a duet.

"Jack, please shut the window," begged Belle. "That is, if you have finished talking to that man. The damp wind will--"

"Take all the frizz out of your hair-I know!" Jack cut in. "All right.