Marsh
whirled the spokes of his wheel over and rang the engine-room bell.
The water churned white behind, the tug careened.
"Vat you do! Stop!" cried Heinzman from one of the boats.
Orde stuck his head from the pilot-house door.
"You're obstructing navigation!" he yelled. "I've got to go to town
to buy a postage-stamp."
The prow of the tug, accurately aimed by Marsh, hit square in the
junction of two of the booms. Immediately the water was agitated on
both sides and for a hundred feet or so by the pressure of the long
poles sidewise. There ensued a moment of strain; then the links
snapped, and the SPRITE plunged joyously through the opening. The
booms, swept aside by the current, floated to either shore. The
river was open.
Orde, his head still out the door, looked back. "Slow down, Marsh,"
said he. "Let's see the show." Already the logs caught by the
booms had taken their motion and had swept past the opening.
Although the lonesome tug Heinzman had on the work immediately
picked up one end of the broken boom, and with it started out into
the river, she found difficulty in making headway against the sweep
of the logs. After a long struggle she reached the middle of the
river, where she was able to hold her own.
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