Then something happened, something that they had never once dreamed of,
and which was at first utterly beyond the understanding of any of the
paddlers.

Bandy-legs seemed to find more or less trouble about getting himself
settled in the best attitude for his work. It was all pretty new for
him, though Max thought the other did very well for a greenhorn. He
wriggled about in his cedar boat like an uneasy worm, changing his
position often, and each time thinking that he had improved his paddling
powers, only to find the same old fault.

All at once he set up a whoop that startled his chums.

"Hi! looky here, what's happenin' to this old coffin!"

The others saw nothing wrong, save that Bandy-legs himself seemed to be
engaged in scrambling about more or less, as though he had suddenly
discovered a venomous spider crawling out from under the false bottom of
his delicate craft.

"What ails you?" called out Max, stopping the use of his handy spruce
blade, as he turned his head toward the one who appeared to be in
trouble.

"Wow! I tell you she's sinkin'!" continued Bandy-legs, as if aghast.

"What! your canoe?" cried Owen, as if unable to believe his ears.

"Sure she is, boys! Water's just bubbling up in her to beat the band! I
felt it gettin' wet down by my feet, and looked just in time. What'll I