“Isn’t there a place where we can put in for repairs?”
“We’ll do better to go on, if we can find the channel.”
“We’re lost then?”
“Not lost,” Haredia insisted irritably. “With the motor running right, I could find the channel in time.”
“Can’t we pole out of this?”
“It will be hard work,” the operator tried to discourage him.
Nevertheless, he brought out the long poles and the Scouts took turns shoving the heavy boat backwards through the thick, choking mass. A hot sun beat upon them, causing perspiration to run down their foreheads and legs.
As they toiled, the woman passenger showed little interest. Remaining under the shade of the canopy, she fanned herself and calmly read a magazine.
The Scouts began to feel annoyed as the sun rose higher and the poling became harder. They expected no help from their fellow passenger, but her utter indifference to their toil rather nettled them.
As for Haredia, he divided his time between steering the craft and smoking cigarettes. Not once did he grasp a pole to exert any physical effort.