"They all call me Ben among my friends."
"Very well; Ben it is."
"I am satisfied, Deck, though it seems a little off now to call you by your given name, cut short, though we used to do so before you were promoted. But what are you feeling for?" asked Ben, as his companion continued to poke about him.
"I was trying to find the oars which belong in this boat," replied Deck. "See if you can find them near the bow."
Both of them made diligent search in every part of the boat; but no oars could be found, and it was evident that they were kept on board of the steamer.
"No oars; that makes it bad for us," added Deck.
"I can make a paddle out of my board," suggested Ben.
"Do so if you can," replied Deck as he picked up his own staff.
By this time, after sitting still for a while, both of them were chilled by the wet and the night air, and they needed exercise of some kind to warm them. Ben had a large and sharp knife in his pocket, and he began to whittle the board like a typical Yankee. Deck put his staff into the scull-hole, and made an effort to steer the tender, and thus prevent her from whirling. As a rudder it was a failure; but as an oar, heaving around the stern, he succeeded with much exertion in making a tolerably straight course.
"That village must be Robertsport," said Deck, who had carefully studied all the localities in this region on his map. "There is a big bend of the river here, and we might as well go ashore there as farther down."