“Huh!” Alex exclaimed. “That’s just exactly what I want to know.”
CHAPTER VI.—JULE TURNS THE SWITCH.
“I don’t believe,” Jule said, throwing himself off his bunk in a moment, “that the Rambler has made successful trips on the Amazon, the Columbia, the Colorado, the Mississippi and the St. Lawrence to become lost on an inland river like the Ohio! In some way, we’re going to get out of this scrape and continue our journey.”
The boy sat down by the little stationary table in the cabin and studied out the problem in his own boyish way. There were police boats on the river, and eventually the attention of some captain would be attracted to a splendid motor boat like the Rambler in the hands of a couple of river toughs.
Besides, the Rambler was entirely unmanageable, and would doubtless soon bring up against a sand bar or a mass of wreckage. In this case the first boat coming within sight would undoubtedly stop to inquire the cause of the trouble.
Thus reasoning himself into a more hopeful state of mind, the boy went out onto the little deck and watched Gid and Mike panting and sweating at the oars and sweep in their vain efforts to keep the Rambler off a sand bar which lifted its white surface above the river on the Kentucky side.
For a time the men succeeded fairly well, but the current set directly toward the bar, which was, in fact, one of its creatures, and the Rambler soon thrust her nose into the firm sand with a shock and shiver which seemed to loosen every rivet and bolt.
Gid rattled the oar he had been using down on the deck and wiped his streaming brow with a dirty hand. Mike sat down on the gunwale and swore earnestly and with originality.
“What’s the answer?” Mike asked in a moment.
Gid shook his head gravely.