The experience was not dangerous, merely exciting; but the quartet did not know that, and when at last the river quieted, and they found themselves still afloat, they regarded it as a miracle wrought by the mercy of heaven.
It was five minutes before Skeeter Butts could recover his breath and crawl to the wheel. Five minutes more passed before he was able to speak a word. Then in a dry tone—the only dry thing about Skeeter—he said:
“I wus fixin’ to turn aroun’ at de bend, anyhow. I figger it’s ’bout time we wus gittin’ back to de automobile.”
The hour’s ride back to the Tickfall landing was free from conversation. Not even Vinegar Atts could think up anything to say. Each had bidden farewell to the world a few minutes before, and now in a sense of great deliverance, they were trying to repossess it.
As they approached the landing their courage slowly revived.
“Dem two boats sot us right behime death’s door, Skeeter,” Vinegar remarked in a weak voice.
“It squoze me up some in death’s door,” Skeeter chattered, slapping at his wet garments. “Dat expe’unce is done ruint me—I won’t never be de same agin.”
“I’se glad it happened,” Hitch Diamond growled. “It wus a powerful good try-out fer dis boat. I don’t believe nothing kin sink her now!”
“Ain’t it de trufe!” Figger Bush quacked. “I ain’t never gwine be skeart on dis Mud Hen no mo’.”
“You look at dat glass water-tube an’ see is de b’iler got plenty water in it!” Skeeter barked. “Mebbe some spilt out when we wus mighty nigh upsot.”