"It surely must have lowered several inches since I was here yesterday,"
he declared, in dismay.

"Think we'll get through safely?" queried Jud Elderkin, anxiously.

"I hope we may," replied the scout master; "but we've just got to creep
along, and be mighty careful. You see, most of the bed of this canal is
mud, and not sand. Once the sharp bow starts to rooting in that, there's
no telling how far we'll explore before letting up. And it's surprising
how that same mud clings. I could hardly work my light canoe loose two or
three times. Just seemed like ten pair of hands had hold of her, and were
gripping tight. Easy there, Jack, take another notch in your speed, old
fellow! Crawl along, if you can. And have the poles ready to fend off, if
we get into any bad hole."

The boys were strung along the sides of the slowly moving motorboats.
Every fellow came near holding his breath with nervousness.

"Excuse me from getting stuck here in this nasty mess," remarked Nat
Smith, on board the roomier boat with Jack, Bobolink, Tom Betts, Andy
Flinn, Curly Baxter, Spider Sexton, Frank Savage and Bob Tice.

"Why, we might stay here a week," observed the last mentioned, in a voice
that told plainly how little he would relish such a mishap, when they had
planned such splendid times ahead.

"All summer, if it didn't rain, because the creek would get lower all
the time." Paul himself observed, with emphasis, wishing to make every
scout resolve to avoid this catastrophe, if it were at all possible.