split wide open a big tree that was floating down stream.
"If it strikes us," murmured Mr. Piper, "we'll" And then he thought better of what he was evidently going to say, and did not finish his sentence.
"It's of no use," said Mr. Ringold, after a while, "We can't make any headway across the river. We'll just have to go on and trust to luck."
He and Blake kept a sharp lookout ahead, and managed to avoid, several times, collisions with floating debris in the shape of logs, and parts of buildings.
As they rounded a turn, which could be made out by the flashes of lightning, Blake uttered a cry.
"What's that—just ahead?" he shouted.
He pointed to a large black object, looming up on the right.
At the same moment there came another flash, seemingly of greater intensity than any that had preceded it. The flash appeared to completely envelope the big, dark object, and with one voice Blake and Mr. Ringold cried:
"A cotton barge!"
"And struck by lightning, too!" added Blake, a second later, as, despite the downpour of rain,
