There came whistles of
encouragement from the surrounding craft. The heat was intense, and on
the suggestion of Mr. Kennedy the motor boat's decks were kept wet
from the water in the pails. The girls felt their hands and faces grow
warm. Those on the boathouse float and pier were all anxiety. The
flames, blown by the wind, seemed to leap across the intervening space
as if to reach the boat shelter.
"Here she goes!" cried Mr. Stone, as he cast the anchor. It was
skillfully done, and the prongs caught on some part of the barge, low
enough down so that the hempen strands would not burn. Mr. Stone
pulled on the rope to see if it would hold. It did, and he called:
"Let her go, Miss Nelson! Gradually though; don't put too much strain
on the rope at first! After you get the barge started the other way,
it will be all right."
Betty sent the Gem ahead. The rope paid out over the stern-- taunted--
became tight. There was a heavy strain on it. Would it hold? It did,
and slowly the hay barge began to move out into the lake.
"Hurray!" cried Mr. Kennedy. "That solved the problem."
"You girls certainly know how to do things," said Mr.
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