“Who thinks best to give up this trip? Or, rather, to go back and start over again—if we dare?”
Nobody spoke but a sort of groan ran around the little company.
“All in favor of going on, with some other sort of ‘power,’ or of anchoring the Water Lily at some pleasant point near shore and staying there, say ‘Aye’.”
So lusty a chorus of “Ayes” answered that Aunt Betty playfully covered her ears, till the clamor had subsided. Then a council of ways and means was held, in which everyone took part, and out of which the decision came:
That Cap’n Jack should rig up the sails which was another one of Mr. Blank’s provisions against just such a dilemma, and instruct the three lads how to use them; that when they didn’t want to sail they should use the poles; or using neither, should remain quietly at rest in the most delightful spot they could find; that the Lily and its Pad should be fastened together in the strongest way, so that no more separation by wind or storm could be possible.
“The tender adds a great weight to your ‘power’ in such a case,” suggested Mr. Stinson. “Without it you could move much faster.”
“And without it, where could Ephy sleep and Chloe cook? The boys, too, will need their warm bunks if it happens to be cold,” said Dolly. “Besides—the kitchen is out there. Oh! we can’t possibly spare the tender.”
“Most house-boats get along without one,” explained the engineer.
“What about a horse, or a mule? I’ve seen such a thing somewhere, on some of our little trips with Mr. Bruce,” suggested the widow, then touched by her own reference to the dead relapsed into silence.
“Many of the little rivers of the Western Shore have banks as level as those of a canal,” said Mrs. Calvert. The idea had approved itself to her. “I’m afraid you lads would get very tired of the poling, even if the water was shallow enough. Without wind, sails wouldn’t help us; so Mrs. Bruce’s notion is the best one yet.”