“Yes; but we can’t drag it out of the water without running upon shore with the boat.”
“I think we can, captain. At any rate, don’t let the boat get aground,” I replied.
The steamer continued on her course till she came abreast of a large tree growing on the shore, between which and the lake the rails were laid down.
“Stop her!” I shouted; and my order was promptly obeyed.
The dummy was now in about six feet of water, and not more than a hundred feet from the tree. It was headed in a diagonal towards the railroad.
“Now, Captain Underwood, have you a heavy snatch-block?” I asked as the boat stopped.
“I have—one used with that tow-line,” replied the obliging captain, to whom the request indicated the nature of further operations; and I ought to add, in justice to him, that the look of incredulity which had played upon his face was all gone.
I took the snatch-block, with the ropes to make it fast, and the end of the tow-line, into the skiff, and, attended by Tommy, pulled ashore. My companion, in spite of the fact that he usually wore kid gloves, made himself exceedingly serviceable. I rigged the snatch-block to the tree, and passed the tow-line over the sheaf, carrying the end back to the steamer in the boat, where I made it fast to the stern bits.
“Go ahead, captain!” I called.
Working her up to her speed slowly and carefully, the steamer ploughed and strained for a few moments, then went ahead. The rope strained, but it did not part, and the dummy walked up out of the water as though she had been a sea-horse emerging from his native element.