"All right, we'll stand by you."
A moment later, Nat Wingate was seen crouching down at the wheel. Amidst clouds of spray that dashed over him, he tugged first one way and then the other, but it did not appear that any move had been made to start the engine.
"Throw them a line," ordered Bob, quickly.
The boats, however, were drifting apart, and Sam Randall's first attempt was not successful. Again and again he tried. Bob Somers, in spite of the risk, came to his aid by stopping the "Rambler," and within a few minutes Nat Wingate was able to seize the rope that came flying through the air.
It was made fast, the motor again started, and the "Nimrod" gradually drawn around until its bow was pointed directly toward the oncoming waves.
The frantic energy with which its crew was working with the buckets would have been amusing under other circumstances. It soon became apparent that the situation was not going to grow any worse, but the boats were still plunging violently, and, at intervals, large waves poured over the rails.
For fully fifteen minutes the storm continued in all its fury. Just as the rain began to slacken, and there was a lull in the heavy gusts, John Hackett threw down his bucket and shouted to the Ramblers.
"Hello!" he cried. "If this old boat didn't swallow nearly half the lake, I'm wrong in my calculations."
The speaker looked as if his attempt at humor had caused him a pretty hard effort.
"It was all on account of the wheel getting jammed," added Nat, ruefully. "But for that, we wouldn't have been in such a mess."