"Why not tow her up and back, if he pays for it?" Bill suggested.
The buyer caught as eagerly at the idea as a drowning man does at a straw. "Sartin. Tow her up!" he exclaimed. "I hire the boat and pay all expenses. How many hands of you? Three. All right. You get ten dollars apiece a day till the ship's unloaded."
The man's eagerness to buy his way through all obstacles rather confused Walter, who now turned inquiringly toward Bill.
"She draws nigh onto twenty feet this blessed minute," Bill said in a doubtful undertone.
"Why, the river is booming!" cried the stranger, looking from one to the other, with eager, restless eyes, as this unforeseen difficulty presented itself to his mind.
Again Bill came to the rescue. "I'll tell ye, mates, what we can do. Lash an empty lighter on each side of her; that'll lift her some; then if she takes the ground, we might break out cargo into the lighters, till she floats agin."
The lumber speculator listened like one who hears some one speaking in a strange tongue. He, however, caught at Bill's idea. "Yes, that's the how, shoah," he joyfully assented. "I'll hire a towboat to-night, if one's to be had in 'Frisco for money. I don't know shucks 'bout these yer ships, but when it comes to steamboats I reck'n I kin tell a snag from a catfish."
"I think we may risk it, then," observed Charley, who, as ship-keeper, felt all his responsibility for her safety.
Walter then drew up the contract in proper form, after which it was duly signed, sealed, and witnessed.