There was the place where the
_Venture_ had been put together, there was the tree to which it had
been so securely moored; but the raft that had grown into being and
become a familiar sight at that point no longer occupied it, nor was it
anywhere to be seen. Only a flood of turbid waters, fully two feet
higher than they had been the evening before, swept over the spot, and
seemed to beckon mockingly towards the great river.
"Why, the raft has gone!" exclaimed Elta, in a dismayed voice.
[Illustration: "'Why, the raft has gone!' exclaimed Elta"]
"It certainly has," answered the Major, grimly; "and as it cannot
possibly have floated up-stream, it must have gone towards the
Mississippi. I only hope that Winn managed in some way to check and
hold it before it reached the big water; otherwise we may have a merry
hunt for it."
While he spoke they had been hurrying to a point a short distance
down-stream, around which the creek made a bend. From here they could
command a view of half a mile of its course, and somewhere along this
stretch of water they hoped to see the raft safely moored. They were,
however, doomed to disappointment; for as far as the eye could see
there was no sign of the missing craft. Full of conjectures and
forebodings of evil they reluctantly turned back towards the house.
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