"It won't do to stay here," said Nick, a moment later.
"But where can we go?"
"Out in the pond; there's a better chance to breathe there than along
shore."
"But I can't swim, Nick."
"What of that? I can, and I'll take care of you; but there is plenty of
wood and we can make a raft. That reminds me that there _was_ a raft
here last week, when Sam Harper and I had a swim: I wonder where it can
be. Help me to look for it."
They moved slowly along the margin of the pond, peering through the
gloom as best they could, but seeing nothing of the support on which
they now placed so much hope.
Nick Ribsam, however, did not fail to notice one thing--it was becoming
hotter every minute and they could not wait much longer before entering
the water in very self-defense.
They pushed bravely on, and when the circuit of Shark Pond was half
completed, reached a point where the thick vapor lifted, or, more
properly, it had not yet descended, and they stopped to rest themselves
again.
"Well," exclaimed Nick, with a sigh, "some folks would call this fun,
but I don't see where it comes in."
"I don't see how any one could find fun in such suffering; but, Nick,
you will have to make a raft."
"I believe you are right; there isn't much chance to fasten these dry
logs together, and I haven't time to build one that will hold us both."
"What will you do?"
"I will place you on it, and I'll swim along-side----"
"There's the raft! I see it! I see it!"
Nellie sprang to her feet and pointed out on the pond where, through the
smoky gloom, the outlines of the half dozen logs, which Nick and
several of his playmates had bound together with withes, when frolicking
in the water, were seen.
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