"
The object to which their attention was thus directed proved to be a
decked canoe, the very daintiest craft any of them had ever seen,
bearing the name _Psyche_ in gold letters on either bow. In it sat a
boy of about Winn's age, urging it forward with vigorous strokes of a
double-bladed paddle.
The raft was close to the levee as he shot alongside.
"Hello!" he shouted; "is this the raft _Venture_?"
"Yes. Are you Worth Manton?"
"No; but I am Sumner Rankin. Worth is down there with his father and
all the hands we could raise, working on the levee; but we are afraid
it can't stand much longer. I have been out here hailing every raft
that passed, and watching for you for the last three days. I'm awfully
glad you've come, for our men are discouraged, and about ready to give
up. Now, perhaps you will help us."
"Of course we will! Come right aboard and show us where to tie up,"
answered Billy Brackett, heartily.
By the time the raft was made fast near the scene of greatest danger,
and Mr. Manton, with Worth, had come aboard, the night was as dark as
pitch. The lanterns of the working gang glancing here and there like
so many fire-flies were feebly reflected in the angry waters that slid
stealthily by with uncanny gurglings and muttered growls.
[Illustration: "The lanterns of the working gang glancing here and
there like fire-flies.
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