Urged on by an almost unanimous call, Paul finally agreed to start the motor again, and see what the result would be. So Jud sent the order to the second boat by means of his signal flags.
When the cheerful popping of the Comfort's exhaust made itself heard, there was an almost simultaneous cheer from the scouts.
"We're off!" they shouted, in great glee.
"Goodbye, old mud bank!" cried Gusty, waving his hand in mock adieu to the unlucky spot where so much precious time had been wasted. "See you later!"
"Not much we will!" echoed Joe Clausin. "I've got that spot marked with a red cross in my mind, and if this boat ever gets close to it again, you'll hear this chicken cackle right smart. It's been photographed on my brain so that I'll see it lots of times when I wake up in the night."
"How about the other boat?" asked Paul, who was stooping down to fix something connected with the motor at the time, and could not stop to look for himself, although he could hear the throbbing of the Speedwell's machinery.
"Oh! she slid off easier than we did, I reckon," remarked Old Dan Tucker, now snuggled down comfortably, and apparently in a mood to take things easy, since it would be a long time between "eats."
"Tell them to go slow, all the same, Jud," Paul remarked.
"You don't seem to trust this creek as much as you might, Paul?" chuckled Gusty, who was handling the wheel, during the minute that Paul was busy.
"Well, after that experience I confess that I'm a little suspicious of all kinds of mud banks. They're the easiest things to strike up an acquaintance with, and a little the hardest to say goodbye to, of anything I ever met. Give her a little twist to the left, Gusty. That place dead ahead don't strike me as the channel. That's the ticket. I guess we missed another slam into a waiting mud bank. Now I'll take the wheel again, if you don't mind."