“You need it!” Step Hen told him dryly, which of course was a little thrust at the heft of the stout scout.
“When do we expect to go ashore, Thad, may I ask?” Smithy wanted to know.
“The rain is stopping, as sure as anything, and that’s one comfort,” declared Davy, knowing the aversion felt by the particular member of the patrol, who belonged to the great Smith family, to getting his nice suit wet.
“The best we can do,” came the reply from the chief of the expedition, “is to get our duffel ready, and if there’s any sign of the boat moving off, why we could disembark in a big hurry.”
“Granny governor! do you really think she may take a sudden notion to start out again on another cruise?” asked Bumpus, looking anxious.
“That’s hard to say,” he was told, “because it depends a whole lot on what the wind does. It’s blowing great guns right now, but so long as it holds down-river way I think the shanty boat will stick here on this point. But there’s a chance of it changing more into the northwest, and then nothing could hold the boat here.”
“But couldn’t we tie her up somehow to one of those trees, you know?” demanded Smithy.
“Yes, if we had the cable to do it with,” Thad informed him.
“But—there was a rope, seems to me?” continued Smithy.
“Take a look at it, Allan, and let’s hear what you think,” said the leader.