“Oh, we’re going up!” cried Dot. “Look, we’re rising!”
“Just like in an elevator!” added Tess.
And, indeed, that is just what it was like. The water lifted the Bluebird up higher and higher. As soon as the water had raised it to the upper level, the other gates were opened, and the Bluebird moved slowly out of the lock, having been raised about fifteen feet, from a lower to a higher level. Going from a higher to a lower is just the reverse of this. Sometimes a hill is so high that three sets of locks are necessary to get a boat up or down.
Once more the mules were hitched to the tow-line, and started off. As the boat left the lock another one came in, which was to be lowered. The children watched this as long as they could, and then turned their attention to new scenes.
It was toward the close of the afternoon, during which nothing exciting had happened, except that Tess nearly fell overboard while leaning too far across the rail to see something in the water, that Neale, looking forward toward the mules and their driver, saw a man leading a lone animal come out of a shanty along the towpath and begin to talk to Hank.
Hank halted his team, and the Bluebird slowly came to a stop. Mr. Howbridge, who was talking to Ruth and Agnes, looked up from a book of accounts he was going over with them and inquired:
“What’s the matter?”
“Oh, Hank has met a friend, I imagine,” ventured Neale. “It’s a man with a lone mule.”
“Well, he shouldn’t stop just to have a friendly talk,” objected the lawyer. “We aren’t hiring him for that. Give him a call, Neale, and see what he means.”
But before this could be done Hank turned, and, making a megaphone of his hands, called: