"I think we'll have to settle this in court, Mumps," said Dick, as quietly as he could.
"You can't prove I ran you down."
"Don't you dare to have us hauled up," put in Bill Goss. "It was an accident, jest as John says. I reckon as how it will teach ye a lesson not to follow us ag'in."
By this time the two yachts were once more so far apart that talking from one to the other became difficult. Besides this, the Rover boys felt that they must turn their whole attention to the Spray, so no more was said.
The yacht had been struck just at the water line and the hole made in her side was all of six inches in diameter. Through this the water was pouring into the hold at a lively rate.
"We're going down as sure as guns," groaned Tom. "Steer her right for the shore, Sam." This was done, and just as the Spray began to settle they ran upon a muddy and rocky flat about thirty feet from the river bank proper.
"There, we can't go down now," said Dick, with something of a sigh of relief. "Let us lower the mainsail and jib before the wind sends us over on our beam ends."
The others understood the value of the advice, and soon the mainsail of the yacht came down with a bang, and the jib followed. The Spray seemed inclined to list to port, but stopped settling when her deck line touched the surface of the river.
"That settles yachting for the present," said Dick in deep disgust.
"And the worst of it is, we haven't even a small boat to go ashore in," added Sam. "What's to do?"