The Outdoor Girls in Florida Part 14

"It doesn't seem to do any good," wailed Betty, hopelessly, as she slowed down the engine. The water about the craft was very muddy and thick now, caused by the propeller stirring up the bottom of the river.

"I guess we'll have to wade, or swim, ash.o.r.e," said Amy, in what she meant to be a cheerful voice.

"Never!" cried Grace. "I'll stay here until someone comes for us. Say, we haven't called for help!" she exclaimed, with sudden thought. "We're not so far from either sh.o.r.e but what we could make ourselves heard, I think. Let's give a good call!"

"That's so," agreed Mollie. "I never thought of that."

The girls looked across to the distant sh.o.r.es. True enough, the banks were not far off--too far to wade or swim, perhaps, but as the day was calm and still their voices might possibly carry.

"There doesn't seem to be much of a population on either side," observed Betty, grimly. "Still there may be houses back from the sh.o.r.e, hidden by the trees. Now, all together."

They raised their fresh young voices in a combined call that certainly must have carried to both sh.o.r.es. Then they waited, but nothing happened. Again they called, and again--several times.

"I'll give the first man who comes for us in a boat all the chocolates I have left," bribed Grace. No one appeared to accept.

Again they called, after a little rest, and a sipping of what remained of the orangeade. But to no purpose did their appeals for aid float across across the stretch of muddy water.

Once more Betty tried reversing the engine, and again the girls pushed with the oars and pole. The _Gem_ remained fast on the sandy bar.

"I wonder how it would do if I got out and dug around the bow?"

suggested Betty. "The water is shallow on the bar--hardly over my ankles."

"Don't you do it!" cried Grace. "Those horrid----"

"Hark!" cried Mollie, with upraised hand, "I hear something."

Through the stillness they could all note the regular staccato puffing of the exhaust of a gasoline motor. It drew nearer.

"It's a boat coming!" cried Betty.

A moment later a motor craft swung into view around an upper bend, coming swiftly down the river. But at the sight of it the girls gave a gasp, for it was filled with roughly dressed colored men, while in the stern sat a white man of even more villainous appearance than the blacks. And the boat was headed straight for the stranded _Gem_. Help was coming indeed, but it was of doubtful quality.

CHAPTER XI

INTO THE INTERIOR

"Oh, dear!" cried Grace, as she shrank back against Betty. "Oh, dear."

"Those--those men," breathed Amy, who also seemed to be looking about for some sort of physical support. "See, Betty!"

They both seemed to depend on the "Little Captain" in this emergency. As for Mollie, her dark eyes flashed, and she looked at Betty with a nod of encouragement. Whatever happened, these two would stand together, at any rate.

"Don't be silly!" exclaimed Betty, stilling the wild beating of her own heart by the reflection that she must be brave for the sake of others.

"But they are coming right toward us!" gasped Grace, making a move as though to hide in the cabin.

"Of course they are!" exclaimed Mollie, quickly. "They are going to help us; aren't they, Betty?"

"I'm sure I hope so," was the low-voiced answer. "One thing, girls, speak very carefully. Sound carries very distinctly over water, you know."

"They are coming toward us," added Amy, shrinking closer to Betty. There was no doubt of that. The eyes of all in the approaching motor boat, which was a powerful craft, were fixed on the girls in the _Gem_, and it was a strange sight to see the eyes of the colored men, with so much of the white showing in contrast to their dark faces, staring fixedly at our friends. Grace caught herself in a half-hysterical laugh.

"They looked just like those queer china dolls," she explained afterward.

The white man steering the boat was almost as dark in complexion as were his companions, but at least he was white--the girls were sure of that.

"I guess they know we have run on a sand bar," Betty explained, in as calm a voice as she could bring to her need. "They are avoiding it themselves."

As she spoke the other boat made a wide sweep and then, having gone down past the _Gem_, it again swept in on a curve, now being headed up stream.

"Stuck?" called the white steersman, and his voice was not unpleasant, though a bit domineering, Betty thought.

"But perhaps this is because he is used to giving orders," she reflected.

"Yes; we are on a sand bar, I'm afraid," she answered, and smiled.

"Look natural!" she commanded to the others a moment later, her voice not reaching the men in the other craft, she felt sure, for the clutch of the relief boat had been thrown out and the engine was racing, making considerable noise. "Look as though we expected this," Betty commanded.

"There's nothing to fear. We are not far from home."

"Lots of folks get stuck on that bar," went on the man, who was bringing his boat into a position favorable for giving aid to the _Gem_. "It ought to be buoyed, or marked in some way. You're strangers around here, I take it," he went on.

"Yes, from Mr. Stonington's orange grove," said Betty, simply. "If you will kindly pull us off this bar we will gladly pay you for your trouble."

Was it fancy, or did Betty detect fierce and eager gleams in the eyes of the colored men?

"Oh, shucks!" exclaimed the steersman, quickly. "I've pulled lots of bigger boats than yours off that bar. And not for pay, neither. Can you catch a rope?"

"Oh, yes," said Mollie, quickly, determined to second Betty's efforts to appear at ease. "We've done considerable cruising."

"That's good. Well, you want to know this river before you do much more.

It's treacherous. Sam, throw that rope while I put us up a little closer," he commanded.

"Yes, boss," was the reply of a big colored man in the bow.

Both Mollie and Betty grasped for the rope as it came uncoiling toward them.

"That's good," complimented the man. "Now can you make it fast? Have you a ring-bolt there?"

"No, but there's a deck-cleat," spoke Betty.

"Just the same. Now, then, I'm going to turn about and try to haul you off, pointing my bow down stream. This boat works better on the direct clutch than in reverse. And when I start to pull, you'd better reverse your motor. Can you do it?"

"Oh, yes," answered Betty.