“Throw water on them.”
“We might do that,” exclaimed Grant. “Hand me that canvas bucket, String.”
Grant filled it to the brim with water and then soused it as nearly as he could into the faces of the fighters. The only effect it seemed to have was to revive them both and the struggle was continued with renewed fury.
“That won’t do,” cried Grant.
“It seems to be a question of who will weaken first,” remarked John, grimly. “I guess we’ll have to sit and watch until that time.”
“Not at all,” exclaimed George. “I say we all pile on and make them quit.”
“And all go overboard if we try that,” said Grant. “You forget that we’re in a boat, Pop.”
“Let me up there, then,” urged George. “I’m sure I can end the fight.”
Grant gave way to his comrade, only too willing to let some one else try his hand at the problem. They changed places carefully and George prepared to put his plan into execution.
“You better stay here beside me, Grant,” he exclaimed suddenly.