Smoke soon began to pour out of the short funnel of the working
engine on the boatyard scow. It was a clumsy-looking craft---a
mere floating platform, with engine, propeller, tiller and a derrick
arrangement, but it had done a lot of good work at and about the
boatyard.

"You want to get aboard the scow now, boys," called Mr. Driggs.
"If we do anything real out yonder I'll have need of some willing
muscle."

"Can't some of the girls go, too?" called a feminine voice. "We're
all dreadfully anxious, you know."

Hiram pursed up his mouth, as though reluctant. Then he proposed,
grudgingly:

"A committee of two girls might go, if they're sure they'll keep
out of the way when we're working. Just two! Which of the young
ladies ought we to take, Mr. Prescott?"

"Why, I believe Miss Bentley and Miss Meade will be as satisfactory
a committee as can be chosen," Dick smiled.

Some of the girls frowned their disappointment at being left out,
but others clapped their hands. Laura and Belle stepped on the
scow's platform.

"I wouldn't try to go, if I were you, Dan," urged. Dick, as young
Dalzell stepped forward to board the scow.