But what could they do but stand helplessly there on the bank and see the boat and its terrified occupants disappear in the canyon?
Some seemed to be urging one thing, and some another—all except Uncle Bob and Arthur.
The former, who was of about as much use in an emergency as a wooden man would have been, walked aimlessly up and down the porch, calling loudly upon the herdsmen to do something and be quick about it, while Arthur stood off by himself and gazed at the flying boat as if he were fascinated.
The only ones who did not seem to lose their heads altogether were the superintendent and Mr. Evans. As they ran swiftly along the bank to keep pace with the boat, Bob saw that they were knotting together a couple of long lariats.
“That’s our only chance, and it is a very slim one,” said he. “If we can catch that rope when it is thrown to us, and they try to pull us up against this current, they will draw the boat under.”
A moment later, a clear strong voice was heard above the excited gabble of the terror-stricken herdsmen.
“Silence!” it cried. “I want to make those boys hear me. Bob, stand by to catch this lasso, and we will haul you ashore. Are you all ready?”
“Let it come!” shouted Bob in reply.
In an instant the herdsmen became silent and expectant. Mr. Jacobs swung the coiled lariat around his head a few times and then launched it out over the water. Anxious eyes watched it as it flew through the air—not in a direct line for the boat, but several feet in advance of it.
“It’s going wild!” cried George, in dismay.