CHAPTER XIII.
THE BOYS MEET AN OLD FRIEND.
“Help! Help! He-e-elp!”
It was a boy’s voice that rang out across the waters of the Saint Lawrence, from a dainty little rowboat that was lazily drifting down the river. The boy was Rob. He stood up in the bow of the boat, looking to the right and left for help; while Fred had dropped to the seat in the stern, where he sat, white and still, waiting and listening.
“Nobody yet,” said Rob, trying to speak bravely, although his tone was far from cheerful. “We shall run across somebody soon.”
“Aren’t there some rapids down below here?” asked Fred anxiously.
“Ye-es,” admitted Rob. “But I don’t know just where they are. They’re the salt—something or other. I’ve heard cousin Alice tell about going through them in a steamer. I wish I’d studied my geography a little more.
