“But what are you going to anchor it with?” asked Mr. Kennedy, when this last feature had been discussed.
“That’s so,” spoke his chum, reflectively.
“There’s a heavy piece of iron under the middle board of the cabin,” said Betty. “Uncle Amos said it was there for ballast in case we wanted to use a sail, but I don’t see that we need it.”
“We’ll use it temporarily, anyhow, for an anchor,” decided Mr. Stone. He and his companion soon had it out, and made fast to the other end of the rope.
“Get ready now!” warned Betty, when this had been done. “I’m going as close as I can.”
She steered her boat toward the burning barge. There came whistles of encouragement from the surrounding craft. The heat was intense, and on the suggestion of Mr. Kennedy the motor boat’s decks were kept wet from the water in the pails. The girls felt their hands and faces grow warm. Those on the boathouse float and pier were all anxiety. The flames, blown by the wind, seemed to leap across the intervening space as if to reach the boat shelter.
“Here she goes!” cried Mr. Stone, as he cast the anchor. It was skillfully done, and the prongs caught on some part of the barge, low enough down so that the hempen strands would not burn. Mr. Stone pulled on the rope to see if it would hold. It did, and he called:
“Let her go, Miss Nelson! Gradually though; don’t put too much strain on the rope at first! After you get the barge started the other way, it will be all right.”
Betty sent the Gem ahead. The rope paid out over the stern—taunted—became tight. There was a heavy strain on it. Would it hold? It did, and slowly the hay barge began to move out into the lake.
“Hurray!” cried Mr. Kennedy. “That solved the problem.”