boat, Bet."

"All right, Uncle-- six bells."

"Where's your charts?" he asked, suddenly.

"Charts?"

"Yes, how are you sailing? Have you marked the course since last night
and posted it? Where are your charts-- your maps? How do you expect to
make Rainbow Lake without some kind of charts? Are you going by dead
reckoning?"

"Why, Uncle, all we have to do is to keep right on down the river, and
it opens into Rainbow Lake. The lake is really a wide part of the
river, you know. We don't need any charts."

"Don't need any charts? Have you heaved the lead to see how much water
you've got?"

"Why, no," and she looked at him wonderingly.

"Well, well!" he exclaimed. "Oh, I forgot this isn't salt water. Well,
I dare say you will stumble into the lake after some fashion-- but it
isn't seaman-like-- it isn't seaman-like," and the old tar shook his
grizzled head gloomily.

Betty smiled, and shifted her course a little to give a wide berth to
some boys who were fishing. She did not want the propeller's wash to
disturb them. They waved gratefully to her.