Andy and Frank did not stay to hear more. Quickly they shoved off in their skiff and were soon approaching the Gull, at the side of which Bob Trent now was.
“It’s a lot of hay smoldering!” he shouted. “Maybe I can get it overboard with my boathook. Come on, fellows.”
“Row! Row!” cried Frank, for Andy had the only available pair of oars.
“I am rowing as hard as I can. Hay on fire! We had no hay on our boat. Someone must have put it there and tried to burn it!”
“I guess so. But don’t talk—save your breath for rowing.”
A minute later Frank and Andy were beside Bob in his boat. Dense smoke was pouring from the Gull, and Frank, dipping up a pailful of water, dashed it into the cockpit. There was a hiss, showing that fire was present.
“Wait!” cried Bob. “I think I can pull the hay overboard now. It’s a small bale.”
He stood up and jabbed his boathook into something. The next moment a dark mass, in which red glowing embers could be seen, and which gave out a dense smoke, splashed into the water with a loud hissing noise.
“There’s still some fire in the boat!” cried Andy, as he saw tiny tongues of flame.
“Yes, the woodwork is on fire, but a little water will douse that,” cried Frank, as he caught up another pailful. With Bob using the second pail, and Andy the pump, the fire was soon put out.