"Well, let it freeze," Bivens cried, peevishly. "What do we care? It's just ten minutes' run when the tender comes."
To Stuart's joy he saw the men start the tender.
"It's all right, they're coming now!" he exclaimed. "We'll have another crack or two before they get here."
He crouched low in the blind for five minutes without getting a shot, rose and looked for the tender. To his horror he saw her drifting helpless before the wind, her engine stopped and both men waving frantically their signals of distress.
"My God!" he exclaimed. "The tender's engine is broken down."
Bivens rose and looked in the direction Stuart pointed.
"Why don't the fools use the oars?"
"They can't move her against this wind!"
"Will they go to sea?" Bivens asked, with some anxiety.
"No, they'll bring up somewhere on a mud flat or marsh in the bay on this low water, but God help them if they can't fight their way back before flood tide."