if I can't find a few arrow heads or the graves of some dead Indians."
In spite of their disappointment, the boys managed to have a good time, to which the fine lunch added not a little. It was getting dusk when they started for home, with Dick at the steering wheel.
As they approached the dock at Hamilton Corners they saw, when a mile away, that the lake in the vicinity of the boat-house was lighted up.
"What's going on?" asked Walter.
"Oh, it's carnival night," replied Dick. "I forgot all about it. They're going to have a procession of boats on the lake. We'll hurry up and join in. I wish I'd thought to decorate my boat."
He speeded up the craft, anxious, as were the other boys, to take part in the water pageant. They bore down on a little fleet of boats, gaily decorated, and filled with merry, laughing, young persons. The procession was just forming.
Suddenly there sounded a sharp report aboard Dick's boat.
"The motor back-fired," he said. "Take the wheel, Walter, while I look after it."
But, a moment later, it was seen that it was no mere back-fire in a cylinder. A sheet of flame arose from the bottom of the craft.
"The gasolene tank has exploded!" yelled Dick. "Jump for your lives, boys! The boat's afire!"
Above the hissing, crackling flames the motor still puffed away, sending the boat straight toward a confused flotilla of other craft, the oc-
