"I believe Dr. Churchill mentioned that if we took up this offer, one of the old grads, who was a crackerjack oarsman in his day, might come and give us some pointers," put in Frank.
"Well, let's get out. Say, but the river is high, though," Tom exclaimed, as they came in sight of the stream. The rain of the past week had raised it considerably, and it was now rushing swiftly along, a muddy stream, far from bearing out its name—Sunny.
"The barge is as safe as a ferry-boat," commented Sid. "It can't upset."
"All right, I'm game," declared Tom. "Let's row down to Tonoka Lake, and see what's going on there."
This lake was a large body of water into which the river emptied—in fact it was more like the widening of the stream than a real lake, but a lake it was called in spite of that. In its centre was Crest Island, of good size.
Soon the four students were in the barge, a four-oared craft, with enough seats so that the quartette could row with an oar each, after the manner of those in a shell.
"Take out the rudder," directed Frank. "We'll have to make our own course, for it can't be worked by one's feet as in a four-oared shell."
Phil unshipped the rudder, and they rowed out into the middle of the stream. It was easy going
