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92 to no purpose did their appeals for aid float across across the stretch of muddy water.

Once more Betty tried reversing the engine, and again the girls pushed with the oars and pole. The Gem remained fast on the sandy bar.

"I wonder how it would do if I got out and dug around the bow?" suggested Betty. "The water is shallow on the bar—hardly over my ankles."

"Don't you do it!" cried Grace. "Those horrid"

"Hark!" cried Mollie, with upraised hand. "I hear something."

Through the stillness they could all note the regular staccato puffing of the exhaust of a gasoline motor. It drew nearer.

"It's a boat coming!" crid [sic] Betty.

A moment later a motor craft swung into view around an upper bend, coming swiftly down the river. But at the sight of it the girls gave a gasp, for it was filled with roughly dressed colored men, while in the stern sat a white man of even more villainous appearance than the blacks. And the boat was headed straight for the stranded Gem. Help was coming indeed, but it was of doubtful quality.