Then she slowed
down again. The LUCY BELLE churned around the bend, and turned in
toward the tug.
"She's going to speak us," marvelled Orde. "I wonder what the
dickens she wants."
"Tug ahoy!" bellowed a red-faced individual from the upper deck. He
was dressed in blue and brass buttons, carried a telescope in one
hand, and was liberally festooned with gold braid and embroidered
anchors.
"Answer him," Orde commanded Marsh.
"Hullo there, commodore! what is it?" replied the tug captain.
The red-faced figure glared down for a moment.
"They want a tug up there at Heinzman's. Can you go?"
"Sure!" cried Marsh, choking.
The LUCY BELLE sheered off magnificently.
"What do you think of that?" Marsh asked Orde.
"The commodore always acts as if that old raft was a sixty-gun
frigate," was Orde's non-committal answer. "Head up stream again."
Heinzman saw the SPRITE coming, and rowed out frantically, splashing
at every stroke and yelling with every breath.
"Don't you go through there! Vait a minute! Stop, I tell you!"
"Hold up!" said Orde to Marsh.
Heinzman rowed alongside, dropped his oars and mopped his brow.
"Vat you do?" he demanded heatedly.
"I forgot the money to buy my stamp with," said Orde sweetly.
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