"Quit it!" shouted Steve. "Are you trying to bury me?"
The latter was on his feet too, brushing the dirt from mouth, eyes, nose and ears. Bob had sent a quantity of it sliding down the chute.
"I can't help it. What's the matter with you? What do you think about this business?"
"I don't think, I know. We are in a nice fix."
"Think so?"
"I told you I didn't think," retorted Steve in a tone of slight irritation.
"Glad you admit it."
"We have been dumped into the hold of an ore vessel. I don't know whether or not there is any way to get out, and it is sure that the hatches will not be opened again until the vessel reaches her destination."
"How long will that be?"
"That depends upon where they are going. If they are bound for any of the Lake Erie ports I should imagine it would take a week or more."