Ken shouted against Sandy’s ear. “How long will she run on a gallon?”
Sandy shrugged. “Maybe an hour. Better keep the hand pump going too.”
Ken nodded. Somehow he felt the worst was over. They were going to survive after all, now that the big pump was in operation. And suddenly a lot of questions—questions he’d had no time to consider in his fear for their lives—began to push their way forward from the back of his mind.
“Will Cal keep pumping if we leave him a minute longer?” he asked.
Sandy looked puzzled but he nodded. “I think so. He’s afraid we’re going down.”
“Then come inside a minute.” He took Sandy’s arm and pulled him toward the cabin.
“What’s the idea?” Sandy asked, when they had closed the door. “We can’t let him go it alone too long. He’ll tire and slow down.”
“This barge is a part of the counterfeiting organization,” Ken said. “What do they use it for?” He jerked open the two cupboards they had not yet explored.
“Are you crazy?” Sandy demanded. “With luck we may keep this thing afloat for a couple of hours—or less—if we pump our fool heads off. Why’d you bring me inside here to listen to riddles?”
Ken was tossing clothes and various oddments out into the middle of the floor. He answered without ceasing his search. “Barges are handy for getting rid of bodies. We know that’s why we were brought aboard. They’re good for any illegal job that has to be done privately. Why wouldn’t they be a good place for printing counterfeit money?”