Ruoara was situated nearly opposite Grass Springs; but the four islands lay off the former town, and a little below. The South Shoe was due west from the wharf where the boat touched, and she was obliged to back, and go over a mile out of her course, to avoid the island and the shoal water which lay near it. The South Shoe, therefore, was a nuisance in its relation to the steamboat navigation of Ruoara. The five minutes which this circuit required had doubtless caused the Ucayga to miss her connection more than once.
I have been told that I am a machinist by nature. I do not know how this may be, but I am sure that I never see a difficulty without attempting to study out the means to remedy it. As I stood on the wharf, watching the winding course of the splendid steamer, I could not help grappling with the problem of saving this loss of time on the trip. These five minutes might sometimes enable the boat to win the day in the competition with the railroad.
As I have hinted before, I knew every foot of bottom in this part of the lake. I had sailed hundreds of miles among these islands, and, while I was thinking over the matter, the key to the problem flashed upon my mind. I do not mean to say that it was a very brilliant idea; but, simple as it was, it had evidently not occurred to the captain of the steamer, who was a Hitaca man, and knew only the ordinary channels of the lake, used by the steamers. I had an idea; but I deemed it wise to keep my own counsel in the matter, for a suggestion from me would probably have been deemed impertinent.
When the Ucayga disappeared behind the South Shoe, I turned my attention to the business which had brought me to Ruoara. A short distance down the lake, and on its bank, was a beautiful and very elaborate cottage, which had evidently been intended as a copy of that occupied by Colonel Wimpleton. Off the lake-wall lay the boat which I hoped to purchase. The owner had made an immense “spread,” and failed out clean in the height of his glory. People who could afford to purchase such rich and gaudy trappings as those with which the bankrupt owner fitted up his mansion, did not care to buy them at second-hand. Everybody expected that the ornamental appendages of the establishment would be sold for a tithe of their cost; and so they were.
To most of the people on the lake, any boat beyond a skiff for actual service was regarded as a luxury, especially such a craft as that which floated off the wall. Taking hold of the painter, I hauled her in, and stepped on board. She was a very rakish-looking boat, sloop-rigged, with a cabin forward containing two berths, and the smallest stove it is possible to imagine. She was about twenty-four feet long, and as well appointed in every respect as though she had been fitted up to cross the ocean. The owner had certainly lavished money upon her, which he could afford to do, at the expense of his creditors.
While I was examining her I saw the crowd of purchasers moving about the house as the sale proceeded. It was a hopeful sign that no one seemed to care a straw about the boat. Men and women were examining everything else about the establishment, but the Belle—for that was the name I found upon her stern—was wholly neglected. I continued my examination without the notice of any one for some time. I took the trap off the well, and got at the bottom. I found that she was built in the most thorough manner. I was sure she had cost all of six hundred dollars.
“What are you doing in that boat, Wolf Penniman?”
I raised my head from the diligent search I was making in the bottom of the boat, and discovered Mr. Waddie on the wall.
“I am looking at her,” I replied.
“What are you looking at her for?”