The Banner Boy Scouts Afloat or, the Secret of Cedar Island by Warren, George A.

"Who'd ever think," remarked Jud, "that there was such a queer old place as this not more'n seven miles away from home? And not one of us ever poked a boat's nose up this same creek before Paul came down, to spy out things."

"Oh! well, there's a reason for that," replied Phil Towns, who knew all about everything that had ever happened in and around Stanhope. "Until lately, when the scouts organized in these three towns, the boys of Stanhope and those of Manchester never had much to do with each other. Many's the stone fight I've been in with those big mill chaps. Sometimes we whipped them; and then again they chased us right home. So no Stanhope boy ever dared go far down the river in the old days. That's the reason, I guess, why none of us ever tried to explore this place. Say, we seem to be getting in worse and worse, Paul. It isn't more'n a foot deep over there on the right, and less'n ten inches here on the left."

"I know it, Phil, and I'm beginning to be afraid we'll have to back out of this the best way we can," replied the scout master, reluctantly; for his heart had been set on carrying out this plan, and he hated to be compelled to give it up.

Hardly had he spoken than the boat brought up with a jolt that came near throwing several of the scouts into the water and mud. They had run aground after all! Paul turned the motor to the reverse, and the little propeller fairly sizzled in its mad efforts to drag the craft back into clear water, but it was just as Paul had said--there seemed to be innumerable hands clinging fore and aft that refused to let go. And in spite of all the work of the motor they did not move an inch.

"Rotten luck!" exploded Jud Elderkin, as he looked helplessly around, as if to see whether a fellow could at least jump ashore; but since ten feet of that ooze lay on either side, he failed to get much encouragement.

"Ahoy, _Speedwell_, you'll have to give us a lift!" called Paul, making a megaphone out of his hands.

"Y-y-yes, t-t-turn about's f-f-fair p-p-play," added Bluff, waving his bugle. "We p-p-pulled you off, and n-n-now you g-g-got to return the f-f-favor."

"Listen!" said Paul, sharply; "Jack's calling something."

And as they all lined up along the side of the _Comfort_ they heard Jack's voice come across the forty feet of water and mud, saying:

"Only wish we could, Commodore; but sad to say, we're stuck about as fast in this lovely mess as you are, and can't budge her an inch!"

CHAPTER VIII

WHAT THE WATER GAUGE SHOWED

"Well, here is a pretty kettle of fish!" grunted the disgusted Jud. "We seem to take to sandbars and mud flats today to beat the band."

Paul had stopped the motor, since it seemed useless. But of course he did not mean to give up trying to get the boat off.

"One thing's sure," he said, positively, when the others gathered around him, as if in this emergency they looked to the scout master to invent some method of beating the sticky mud at its own game; "every minute we stay here makes it all the worse for us."