"Not on your life," said Bob, firmly. "We'll manage it."
The crew of the "Nimrod" watched their movements with interest, and although quite a wide stretch of water now separated them, the Ramblers could hear their voices and catch an occasional word. It sounded very much as if they were wrangling among themselves.
After many trials, Bob and his companions were able to handle the oars in such a fashion as to steer the "Rambler" on a comparatively straight course. No suitable landing-place could be seen on either shore, and, accordingly, they continued slowly down the river.
"It means several hours' work to get the rudder back in shape," declared Bob, at length.
"And it never will be a 'thing of beauty and a joy forever,'" observed Brandon.
"Nat Wingate and 'Hatchet' are the most reckless fellows in Kingswood," asserted Sam; "I can't understand how Mr. Parsons Wingate would ever trust either of them with a boat. See, here they come now."
The "Nimrod" was approaching rapidly.
"Ho—ho—oh ho!" roared Nat, lustily, through his megaphone. "Cap'n Somers, of the boatlet 'Rambler,' are you going back to Kingswood with us?"
"No, we are not!" snapped Dick Travers, with all the force at his command.
"Let the Cap speak for himself, sonny."