With slackened ropes, the creature instantly drove for the water. But once it plunged into its favorite retreat, the ropes were manipulated in such a way that the animal was actually made to swim and, in addition, was pulled, along the shore line, with comparatively little effort. Once opposite the camp, the turtle was dragged onto the beach and despatched, to be cut into choice portions. For their efforts during the hunt, Tom and Nicky were given some large chunks of the meat which made a wonderful addition to eggs they had discovered, and their regular fare.
Days passed with little happening. Outside of the tedious work of dismantling the gear assembly, and taking out the propeller shaft and bearings to be certain that all was sound, and hammering at the propeller to get its bent flanges back to proper pitch, there was only eating, fighting mosquitos and other annoying insects, and trying to be patient.
In spite of, or, maybe, because of Henry’s shouts and orders, the Indians made no move to take the party upstream.
It was only when the combined arguments of Mr. Gray, Bill, Tom and his chums made Henry desist, that finally, after about ten days, the Indians signified that on the morrow two canoes would start.
“Bill, and Henry will go, of course,” said Mr. Gray. “Tom, I feel, has a right to be with them because of his intense interest in any news concerning his sister.”
“But Nicky is all bitten up with—or by—mosquitos,” said Cliff, “and he can’t risk getting away from the ointment jars—and I must help with the readjustment of the engine and stay with Andy and Dad.”
It was arranged in that way. The next morning two canoes came to the beach and Bill and Tom climbed into the larger, while Henry took his place in the smaller one. With many farewell waves, and promises to get back as quickly as the information could be discovered, they were rowed—or paddled—away.
In turning the sand-spit into the inlet’s swift current, the canoe containing Henry, still morose and soured, went fairly near the jagged rock formation on which the propeller had been damaged. Through the clear water, as a swirl of mud settled, he caught sight of something, and with a sharp word, ordered the four Indians paddling to swing in closer. He got very close to the rock, leaned over the side, then jumped into the water up to his waist.
“What’s the matter with him?” demanded Bill in amazement.
“Gosh!” whispered Tom, “I wish I’d broken the darn things. I did try to shy the bottles of his ‘tonic’ so they’d smash, but they missed.”