“Well, then, I suppose it’s up to me to handle the ribbons,” and Kenneth stepped ashore to start the old mare on her day’s work. “You’ve got your metaphors well mixed up; a fellow overhearing us talk couldn’t tell whether we had a locomotive, a boat, or a horse to tow us.”
In spite of the parleying, the “Gazelle” was soon moving along once more. Hansom walked behind the mare, reins in hand, or walked just ahead, setting the pace. The long line stretched behind, sagging in the water, making long ripples on the placid water ahead of the yacht’s keen prow. Frank, with his hand on the tiller, kept the boat in the middle, while Arthur, having nothing else to do, lay prone, basking in the sun.
“Say, Art,” Frank inquired drowsily, “did Ken read to you that part of his father’s letter where he warned us not to get wrecked on the canal?”
“Yes,” the other answered, “and I thought it the most foolish piece of advice I ever heard. Wrecked in this old ditch! I would as soon think of being wrecked in a bath tub.”
But later they both had cause to remember the warning.
ON THE “RAGING CANAL.”
“‘STEP LIVELY’ ONCE MORE GOT GOING.”
When the hour was up, Kenneth came aboard, Frank took the reins, and Arthur his place at the stick. Frank had not been driving long when he met a four-horse team pulling a train of three heavy canal boats. The driver stopped accommodatingly, and allowed his tow line to sag so “Step Lively” and the yacht could pass over it. Frank thanked him and went over, but hardly had the mare’s heels got over the stranger’s line than he whipped up and tautened it. Kenneth, who was watching, said, “Look at that chap, Art; he thinks he is going to snap ‘His Nibs’ off with his line, but you watch.”
The small boat was towing behind the larger boat, and the driver of the four-horse team figured that when his tow-rope had passed under the “Gazelle” it would snap up and yank “His Nibs” from her fastenings. Soon the tow-line could be felt rubbing along on the yacht’s keel, then, for an instant, there was a pause, while both teams pulled with all their might in opposite directions; the tow-lines tautened like harp strings, and the water was sent flying in all directions by the vibration. Suddenly the stranger’s line parted, cut in two by the “Gazelle’s” sharp plate rudder; the four horses almost fell on their heads, and the driver, who was riding one of them, barely escaped a ducking in the canal. Relieved of their accustomed burden, the team started off on a run, and the driver, picking himself up, ran after them, swearing loudly, and ever and anon turning to shake his fist at the boys. These threatening gestures were received with roars of laughter, which continued long after the runaway team and the angry driver had disappeared round a bend.
All along the canal small stores were kept for the convenience of the canal men and their families. Food was cheap, and therefore abundant, and the boys thrived under the easy life, the nourishing fare, and the open-air exercise. In spite of the eight or ten miles of walking each of them put in every day, they began to get fat. “Step Lively” also showed signs of her good care; her ribs became less evident, and her coat showed signs of glossiness.