“Oh, you—” began the badgered one, when the attention of the boys was taken from tormenting their chum by several sharp blasts of the Modoc’s whistle. There was an answering screech and Frank suddenly exclaimed:
“Look there, boys!”
They all looked. On the port side, bearing right down on them, and coming at full speed, was an immense grain barge. It appeared to be unmanageable, for the whistle was frantically blowing, and a man in the pilot house was waving his hand.
“Toot! Toot! Toot! Toot!” screamed the whistle of the Modoc.
“She’s going to ram us!” cried Fenn. “We can’t get out of the way in time!”
There was a confused jangling of bells from the Modoc’s engine room, followed by more whistles, and then the steamer began to swing around. But still the grain barge came straight on. A collision seemed inevitable.