"Ah—then that accounts for number sixty-nine," observed the Unwiseman. "They're just keeping a lot of rooms numbered until there's enough States to go around."
"I hope we get over all right," put in Whistlebinkie, who wasn't very brave.
"O I guess we will," said the Unwiseman, cheerfully. "I was speaking to that sailor on that very point this morning, and he said the chances were that we'd go through all right unless we lost one of the screws."
"Screws?" inquired Whistlebinkie.
"Yes—it don't sound possible, but this ship is pushed through the water by a couple of screws fastened in back there at the stern. It's the screws sterning that makes the boat go," the Unwiseman remarked with all the pride of one who really knows what he is talking about. "Of course if one of 'em came unfastened and fell off we wouldn't go so fast and if both of 'em fell off we wouldn't go at all, until we got the sails up and the wind came along and blew us into port."
"Well I never!" said Whistlebinkie.
"O I knew that before I came aboard," said the Unwiseman, sagely. "So I brought a half dozen screws along with me. There they are."
And the old gentleman plunged his hand into his pocket and produced six bright new shining screws.
"You see I'm ready for anything," he observed. "I think every passenger who takes one of these screwpeller boats—that's what they call 'em, screwpellers—ought to come prepared to furnish any number of screws in case anything happens. I'm not going to tell anybody I've got 'em though. I'm just holding these back until the Captain tells us the screws are gone, and then I'll offer mine."