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"Go to it!" urged Phil mockingly. "You've got some job ahead of you. You figure out how a rowboat's going to float that load across and let me know about it." "Yes," challenged a new voice, "you do that, and let me know about it too." Mr. Fulton had stepped unobserved through the border of trees and brush lining the river path. "Huh!" bragged Jerry.
The proprietor nodded, and Mr. Gryce settled himself again inside to watch for the rowboat's return. What he learned that night from this man Jenkins calmed him still further. The woman had acknowledged, on leaving him, that she was going to seek work at the factory. "A little old for the job," the man volunteered, "but spry. How she did clamber up that bank!" It was enough; Mr.
"She couldn't," answered Shep. "I tied her up, and did it good, too. There is the exact spot," and he pointed out a stout bush. In the dirt of the bank was the mark of the rowboat's sharp bow. "Look there!" ejaculated Whopper. "See the size of those footprints -as big as canal-boats. Do you know what I think?" he almost shouted.
"Ship ahoy!" shouted Bobby presently. Libbie jumped and looked ahead anxiously. "It's only the boys," she said dully. An eight-oared rowing shell shot down to them, and the freckled-faced coxswain, Gilbert Lane, one of the boys the girls had met at Bob and Tommy's "party," grinned cheerfully. "Where you going?" he asked, resting a friendly hand on the rowboat's rim.
"Let her go," Tom returned, "as soon as Nicolas boards." The Mexican was quickly aboard, after having made the rowboat's painter fast. "Headway!" announced Renshaw, throwing over the drive-wheel of the engine. "Put-put-put!" sputtered the motor. Then the "Morton" began really to move. With the first real throb of the engine the electric running lights gleamed out. Aft Conlon began to stir.
So for half an hour we crouched below that rowboat's gunwale, just peeping up now and then to see the white line of the breakers on the sand, and beyond that the black outlines of the horsemen, who slowly followed us, firing steadily, but with no very clear view of what they fired at. I thought that the two miles would never end.
Some who came to the Cove trolled long and skillfully, and were lucky enough to gain a power troller in the end, to live on beans and fish, and keep a strangle hold on every dollar that came in until with a cabin boat powered with gas they joined the trolling fleet and became nomads. They fared well enough then. Their taking at once grew beyond a rowboat's scope.
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