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It took me a long time, and I begun to think maybe my guess was wrong, but at last I struck it. It laid over by the bulkhead, and was nearly the color of the carpet. It was a little round plug about as thick as the end of your little finger, and I says to myself there's a di'mond in the nest you've come from. Before long I spied out the plug's mate.
"Do you suppose we could slip overboard without swamping the boat, and so lighten it?" demanded Nancy. "What good would that do?" "Then it wouldn't sink and we could cling to the gunwales. It would keep us afloat." "Oh, that plug's come out!" gasped Jennie. It had. Nancy stooped and forced the cloth into the hole again; but her motion rocked the boat dangerously.
Now you know what the scorpion who stung you's up against! You lie there and think about it, cocky; I'll show you his shirt tomorrow morning." "Suppose we go now," suggested Grim. "I've got the drift of this thing. Get the rest elsewhere." "You can fan that Joskins for a lot more yet," Jeremy objected. "The plug's pulled. He'll flow if you let him." Grim nodded. "Sure he would.
"The plug's been pulled, Nance!" she exclaimed. "See that bunch of rags floating? That's what Cora Rathmore stuffed into the hole when she pulled out the plug. She knew the water would soon work them out." "But where's the plug?" asked Nancy. "They took it away with them. It's a mean trick!" gasped her chum. "Why, Nancy! The water is gaining fast.
"Well, I didn't know what else," answered the largest director, who was already feeling bluffed. "Why didn't J.B. here assert himself then?" "'Fraid he'd get mad's 'ell an' quit me," said Breede. "Only st'nogfer ever found gimme minute's peace. Dunno why talk aw ri'. He un'stan's me; res' drive me 'sane." "Plug's pulled, anyway," commented the quiet director.
He never saw Hamburg Belle or Sysonby they never mated. This plug's a seven-year-old, and he couldn't do seven furlongs in seven weeks. He never was class, and never could be. I don't want to ride a cow, I want a horse. Give me that two-year-old black filly with the big shoulders. Whose is she?" Crimmins shifted the cud again to hide his astonishment at Garrison's sudden savoir-faire.
Here's the facts which you, old friend, with all your wisdom, seem to have overlooked." He smiled up into Peter's face. "First, the man who goes must ride light. You can't be accused of that. You see, we've sure got to get there first. My plug's been out all day, and has only had about four hours' rest. I can get the most out of him the easiest.
Now my eyesight's strong enough to see through a two-foot hole after the plug's out, and I can see that you and 'Bije's children won't shed tears if I say no to that will. No offense meant, you know; just common sense, that's all." This was plain speaking. Mr. Graves colored, though he didn't mean to, and for once could not answer offhand.
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