They had walked not more than a quarter of a mile more when they came
upon a stretch of road which was very muddy, with a piece of lowland
bordering it. It was too dark to see clearly, but in the last remnant of
daylight the boys could just distinguish a small, peculiar looking
structure in the middle of this vast area.
"That's a funny place to build a house," said Roy.
"Maybe it's a fisherman's shack," Tom suggested.
Whatever it was, it was a most isolated and lonesome habitation,
standing in the centre of that desert flat, shut in by the precipitous
hills.
"It would be a good place for a hermit," said Roy. "You don't suppose
anyone lives there, do you?"
"Cracky, wouldn't you like to be a hermit! Do you know what I'd like to
have now----"
"An umbrella," interrupted Tom.
The remark, notwithstanding that it shocked Pee-wee's sense of fitness,
inasmuch as they were scouting and "roughing it," was not inappropriate,
for even as Tom spoke the patter of great drops was heard.
"Maybe it's been raining here this afternoon," observed Tom, "and that's
what makes all this mud."
"Well, it's certainly raining here now," said Roy. "Me for that shack!"
The rain suddenly came down in torrents and the boys turned up their
collars and made a dash across the marshy land toward the shadowy
structure. Roy reached it first and, turning, called: "Hey, fellows,
it's a boat!"
The others, drenched, but laughing, followed him, scrambling upon the
deck and over the combing into the cockpit of a dilapidated cabin
launch.
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