She did not want the two tempers, that
seemed often on the verge of striking fire, one from the other, to
kindle now. There was enough of other trouble, she reasoned.
The oars and pole were thrust into the water ahead of the boat. Bottom
was found within a few inches, showing how shallow was the stream over
the bar. The prow of the _Gem_ seemed to have buried itself deeply in
it.
They pushed and pushed and pushed again, but the only noticeable effect
was the bending of the slender pole of the boathook on which Grace and
Amy were shoving with all their strength. The motor boat did not budge.
"Once more!" cried Betty. "I think it moved a little."
"I wish--I could--think so!" panted Mollie, as she shifted the position
of her oar.
Again they all bent to the task, and Amy and Grace combining their
strength on the pole caused it to bend more than ever.
"Stop!" cried Betty, in some alarm. "It will break, and I don't know
where I can get another. We'd better try reversing the engine."
She sat down in the cushioned cockpit, an example followed by the
others. They were breathing rather hard, and presently Betty went into
the cabin and came out with some iced orangeade that had been put aboard
in a vacuum bottle to retain its coolness.
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