w location to quit it speedily,
and the girls, looking anxiously over the side, could see no change in
their position.

"It doesn't seem to do any good," wailed Betty, hopelessly, as she
slowed down the engine. The water about the craft was very muddy and
thick now, caused by the propeller stirring up the bottom of the river.

"I guess we'll have to wade, or swim, ashore," said Amy, in what she
meant to be a cheerful voice.

"Never!" cried Grace. "I'll stay here until someone comes for us. Say,
we haven't called for help!" she exclaimed, with sudden thought. "We're
not so far from either shore but what we could make ourselves heard, I
think. Let's give a good call!"

"That's so," agreed Mollie. "I never thought of that."

The girls looked across to the distant shores. True enough, the banks
were not far off--too far to wade or swim, perhaps, but as the day was
calm and still their voices might possibly carry.

"There doesn't seem to be much of a population on either side," observed
Betty, grimly. "Still there may be houses back from the shore, hidden by
the trees. Now, all together."

They raised their fresh young voices in a combined call that certainly
must have carried to both shores. Then they waited, but nothing
happened. Again they called, and again--several times.

"I'll give the first man who comes for us in a boat all the chocolates I
have left," bribed Grace. No one appeared to accept.

Again they called, after a little rest, and a sipping of what remained
of the orangeade. But 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!" cried 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 t