The brothers could swim well enough without any encumbrance, still, they would be crippled in their efforts should they be foolish enough to load themselves with a heavy gun, as well as sundry other articles which they thought it necessary to take with them for the success of their expedition.
Why, such a procedure would be like handicapping themselves heavily for the race!
What was to be done?
Eric, the “inventive genius,” very soon solved this difficulty.
“I tell you what we’ll do, brother,” he said; “let us put our blankets, with the kettle and rifle and the other things we require, in one of the oil casks. We can then push this before us as we swim along, the cask serving us for a life buoy to rest upon when we are tired, besides carrying our traps, eh?”
“Himmel, Eric, you’re a genius!” exclaimed Fritz, clapping him on the back. “I never knew such a fellow for thinking of things like you, laddie; you beat Bismark and Von Moltke both rolled into one!”
“Ah, the idea only just flashed across my mind,” said the other, somewhat shamefaced at his brother’s eulogy and almost blushing. “It came just on the spur of the moment, you know!”
“But, how are we going to get the needle-gun into the barrel?” asked Fritz suddenly, taking up the weapon and seeing that its muzzle would project considerably beyond the mouth of the said article, even when the butt end was resting on the bottom.
“Why, by unscrewing the breech, of course,” said Eric promptly.
Fritz gazed at him admiringly.