THE ROVER BOYS Boxed Set: 26 Illustrated Adventure Novels. Stratemeyer Edward

for a moment. "I wish I could get back to her."

      "Be thankful that ye aint at the bottom o' the lake. If we kin outride this storm we'll be safe enough, for the tug will be lookin' for the raft when it gits light."

      Slowly the hours wore away, and in the meanwhile Dick learned that the lumberman's name was Luke Peterson and that he was from the timberlands of Michigan.

      "I used to be in the United States service on the lakes, hunting down smugglers between here and Canada," said Peterson. "But that was years ago."

      "Do they do much smuggling?" asked Dick.

      "More than most folks think," was the decided answer.

      The lumberman listened to Dick's tale with interest. Of course the story had to be short, and was frequently interrupted, as high waves would come along and almost sweep them into the lake. Both lay flat, clutching at the lumber and at the huge chains which held it, and which had thus far refused to part, although the strain upon them were tremendous.

      It was about two o'clock in the morning when the storm, according to Dick's calculation, reached its height. The waves literally drove over the raft from end to end, and it was all both he and Luke Peterson could do to keep on the timbers.

      "Hold on tight, young man, if ye value your life!" roared the lumberman. "An' if the raft parts, stick to the fust timber ye lay hands on."

      Peterson had scarcely spoken when the raft went up to the top of a mighty wave and then came down with a dull boom in the hollow below. The shock was terrific, and it was followed by loud reports as the chains they had been depending upon snapped, one after another. Immediately the lumber loosened up and began to drift apart.

      "Take care o' yerself!" shouted the lumberman, and hung fast to an extra long and heavy log. Dick heard him, but could not answer for fear of getting his mouth full of water. The youth turned over and over, clutched at one log and missed it, missed a second and a third, and then touched a fourth, and clung with a deathlike grip that nothing could loosen.

      It was a soul-trying time, and one which poor Dick never forgot. The storm roared all around him, mingled with the thumping and bumping, grinding and crashing, of the sticks of timber. Once his left leg was caught between two sticks, and for the instant he was afraid the limb would be crushed. But then the pressure lessened and he drew the foot up in a hurry. The water washed into his face and over him, and he caught his breath with difficulty. Each instant looked as if it might be his last.

      CHAPTER IV

       IN THE HANDS OF THE ENEMY

       Table of Contents

      Daylight found poor Dick all but exhausted. He still held to the stick of lumber, but his hands were numb and without feeling, and his lower limbs were in the same condition.

      "I can't stand this much longer," was his dismal thought. "I've got to let go soon."

      He looked around him anxiously. All that met his eyes was the broad expanse of water, with here and there a solitary stick of lumber. He gazed about for Luke Peterson, but the lumberman was not in sight.

      "He must have been drowned," he thought.

      "Heaven help me, or I'll go, too!"

      Gradually the sky cleared of the clouds, and the hot July sun began to pour down with a glare on the water that was well-nigh blinding. As the waves went down he changed his position on the log, and this gave him temporary relief. Soon the sun made his head ache, and he began to see strange visions. Presently he put out his hand, thinking that Tom was before him, and then went with a splash into the lake.

      Almost unconscious of what he was doing, he caught the log again. But he was now too weak to pull himself up. "It's the end," he thought bitterly. Then a cry came to him, a cry that seemed half real, half imaginary.

      "Hullo, Rover! Is that you?"

      It was Peterson who was calling. The lumberman had drifted up on another log, and as the two sticks bumped together he caught hold of the youth and assisted him to his former resting place.

      "I — I can't hold on any — any longer!" gasped Dick.

      "Try, lad, try! Some kind of a boat is bound to appear, sooner or later."

      "I — I am nu — numb all over."

      "I suppose that's true — I'm numb myself. But don't ye give up."

      Encouraged somewhat by Peterson's words Dick continued to hold on, and a few minutes later the lumberman gave a cheering cry:

      "A steamer! Saved at last!"

      The lumberman was right; the freighter Tom and Sam had hailed was approaching, the castaways having been discovered by the aid of a marine glass.

      "A man and a boy," observed Captain Jasper to his mate.

      "The boy looks pretty well done for," returned the mate. "He must be the one that was thrown off the yacht."

      "More than likely."

      As speedily as possible the freight steamer drew closer, and a line was thrown to Peterson.

      He turned to give one end to Dick, and then made the discovery that the latter had fainted from exhaustion.

      "Poor fellow!" he muttered, and caught the youth just as he was sliding into the lake.

      It was no easy task to get Dick on board of the freight steamer. But it was accomplished at last, and, still unconscious, he was carried to a stateroom and made as comfortable as possible.

      Peterson was but little the worse for the adventure, and his chief anxiety was for his friend Bragin, of whom, so far, nothing had been heard.

      The coming of Dick on board of the Captain Rullow was viewed with much astonishment by two of the passengers on the freighter.

      These two persons were Arnold Baxter and his son Dan.

      The two had quite recovered from the injuries received in the landslide in Colorado, and it may be as well to state right here that they were bound East in order to carry out a new plot which the elder Baxter had hatched up against the Rovers.

      What that plot was will be disclosed as our story proceeds.

      "Father, it is Dick Rover," cried Dan Baxter, after having seen the unconscious one brought on board.

      "Hush, Dan! I know it," whispered Arnold Baxter.

      "It's a pity he wasn't drowned in the lake."

      "I agree with you. But he isn't dead, and we'll have to keep out of sight for the rest of the trip."

      "Humph! I am not afraid of.him!" said the bully, for, as old readers know, Dan had never been anything else.

      "That may be, but if he sees us he may — ahem — make much trouble for me."

      "On account of our doings in Colorado? What can he prove? Nothing."

      "Perhaps he can. Besides, Dan, you must remember that the officers of New York State are still after me."

      "Yes, I haven't forgotten that."

      "I wish how that I had put on that false wig and beard before we left Detroit," went on Arnold Baxter. "But I hated to put them on before it was absolutely necessary — the weather is so warm."

      "Can you put them on now?"

      "Hardly, since all on board know my real looks. I will have to keep out of Rover's sight."

      "I would like to know what he is doing out here."

      "On a pleasure trip, most likely."

      The talk went on for some time, and then Dan approached one of the mates of the freighter, who had just come from the stateroom to which Dick had been taken.

      "How is that young fellow getting