Al tumbled headlong on top of the engine, which
he had stopped at last, our passenger rolled over and over, but we all
stayed with the ship. Each grabbing a board, we began to paddle and
steered the craft to the shore.
With the excitement over, the crowd faded away. Only two or three
willing hands remained to help us line the craft back to the landing.
The owner, who had to run around the end of the bridge, came down
puffing and blowing, badly winded, at the end of the first round.
Without a word from any one we brought the boat back to the landing.
Al was the first to speak.
"Well, what are you going to do?" he asked.
"Me? I'm going to take my boat and start for the Gulf in ten minutes.
I'll take nothing that I cannot carry. If I have to leave the river I
will travel light across the desert to Calexico. I think that I can
get through. If you want to go along, I'll stick with you until we get
back. What do you think about it?"
It was a long speech and a little bitter perhaps. I felt that way. The
disappointment on top of the three days' delay when time was precious
could not be forgotten in a moment. And when my speech was said I was
all through.
Al said he would be ready in half an hour. Our beds were left behind.
Al had a four-yard square of canvas for a sail. This would be
sufficient covering at night in the hot desert. We had two canteens.
The provisions, scarcely touched before arriving here, were sufficient
for five days.
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