It looked as though Nat Wingate's deliberate disregard of consequences was going to bear serious fruit.
Before the "Rambler" had righted herself, Bob Somers shut off the power, and the thoroughly2 angry boys, who instantly scrambled3 to their feet, crowded aft.
"We've had enough of this kind of business!" shouted Bob Somers, with flashing eyes. "Whatever damage has been done to this boat, Nat Wingate, you'll have to pay for!"
"He ought to be arrested," chimed in Travers, indignantly. His fists, tightly clenched4, he shook toward the captain of the Nimrods, who was standing5 at the wheel with a peculiar6 look on his face. He did not seem to comprehend what had happened.
"The rudder is bent7 all out of shape and the rail badly dented," said Sam Randall, presently. "Lucky the propeller8 isn't damaged."
"I'm awful sorry, boys!" called young Wingate, but there was something in his tone which belied9 the words "I thought we would just clear you. It was all a joke."
"Joke!" exclaimed Bob, hotly. "We've had enough of such jokes. If there are any more of them you'll get into trouble."
"I only meant to have a little fun, I tell you," pleaded Nat.
"Your ideas on that subject must be peculiar."
"I'll tow you back to Kingswood, and pay for all damages," continued Nat. "What more can you ask? I leave it to everybody—isn't that a fair offer?"
"But we don't want to return to Kingswood," answered Bob, coldly, although he was surprised at Wingate's offer.
"You can't continue the trip with a rudder bent out of shape like that," argued Nat. "Your boat is helpless, I'm afraid. Let us fix this thing up right."
"Why not tow them to the next town?" proposed John Hackett.
Nat shook his head. "No, no!" he said, earnestly; "Kingswood is nearer. It was my fault that their boat was damaged, and I want to do the right thing."
Bob did not answer.
"Come now, is it agreed?" added Nat, persuasively10. All the sarcastic11, half-sneering expression had left his face, and he evidently meant what he said.
"No, it is not agreed to," returned Bob, decidedly. "All this could have been prevented, if you had only acted with a little bit of common sense."
"Then you won't accept my offer?"
A chorus of negative responses came from the Ramblers, Bob Somers adding, in a voice which betrayed his indignant feelings, as he glanced at the damaged rudder: "I believe we can get along without assistance—at least, we don't wish any from the Nimrods."
"Oh, very well," returned Nat, with a slight change of tone; "you can't say that I wasn't willing to do all I could to make amends13. I'll tow you ashore14, now, if you say the word."
"Of course, we'll have to," spoke15 up Ted1 Pollock.
John Hackett picked up a line and prepared to heave it.
But "Captain" Bob was too much disgusted to parley16 with them further. He turned away, and started the engine at half speed.
The "Rambler," however, acted, as Sam put it, "like a drunken man." At the mercy of every conflicting current, she wabbled, then slowly began to swing around until the prow17 was headed for the opposite shore.
"Get out the oars18, boys," said Bob. "We'll have to rig up a temporary rudder."
"Perhaps we had better let them tow us ashore," ventured Tom Clifton, who was disposed to be more timid than his companions.
"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 wrangling20 among themselves.
After many trials, Bob and his companions were able to handle the oars in such a fashion as to steer21 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 'Hatchet22' 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."
"I've nothing more to say on the subject," replied Bob.
"Well, you are making a mistake," shouted the chief Pirate of the Bounding Deep, as the "Nimrod" scudded23 by.
No further attention was paid to them, the boys having all they could do to keep the "Rambler" on its course. They came at last to what looked like a favorable spot, and it was decided12 to go ashore.
This was not accomplished24 without a great deal of trouble, all hands feeling greatly relieved when they at length stood upon the bank.
While Bob assisted in unshipping the rudder, Sam Randall went off in search of a flat stone. Hammers were then brought out of the tool-chest and all stood around, ready to give assistance and advice.
"Sounds like the Anvil25 Chorus from Trovatore," remarked Dave, as the work began.
They found the task more difficult than any of them had anticipated, the force of the blow having twisted the rudder almost out of resemblance to its proper shape.
It was at least two hours before the Ramblers, taking turns with the hammer, were sufficiently26 well satisfied to replace the rudder. It was then decided to lunch on shore, whereupon Dave, with great promptness, stretched himself out under the shade of a tree and went to sleep.
The others brought out smoked tongue, cheese and preserves. Bob declared that it would be unkind to wake the poet laureate the moment he began to slumber27, but much more unkind to deprive him of a meal, and they therefore had no alternative but to arouse him.
"Been in school, composing the great American poem?" queried28 Sam, jocularly.
"Neither; I dreamed that the 'Rambler' had turned into a rowboat," responded Dave, his eyes blinking drowsily29. "I must say, I was always dead against using a pair of oars. It's no sport for a white man."
"Or a lazy one," said Sam, and even Dave laughed in spite of aching arms.
The spot was very charming. Off to the east lay a low line of hills, covered with verdure, while rolling fields and picturesque31 clumps32 of trees added to the charm of the landscape.
As much time had been lost, however, they concluded not to linger. The rudder worked as well as usual, and the "Rambler" was pushed to its fullest capacity.
"This is the kind of sport I like," said Dave, allowing his hand to drag in the cool water. "My, but I'm glad the oars are out of sight."
"When are we going to do any fishing?" asked Tom Clifton, suddenly.
"Plenty of time for that when we get to Lake Minnewago," responded Bob; "I've heard that the fishing there is fine."
Occasionally boats were passed, and the swiftly flying "Rambler" attracted considerable attention.
"There's another of them crazy toy boats ahead," shouted the occupant of a clumsy sloop33, so far away that his words scarcely reached their ears. "She nearly run me down, and I was going to—"
But what the gentleman's intentions were could not be learned, for they immediately passed out of hearing, but judging from his manner they concluded that he was much wrought34 up over something.
"Nat will get his boat broken into little bits, if he keeps up his funny tricks," observed Bob.
The Ramblers could not help being curious to know what had happened.
Several hours glided35 by, during which the boys were treated to a succession of views which Dave declared were so charming as to give him an inspiration for a grand poem.
"The question before the Rambler Club is this," observed Sam: "When are we going to read one of these mysterious effusions?"
"Going to put Bryant in his proper place, Chubby36?" asked Dick.
An expressive37 grin cros............