He had quite worked out in his own mind how he meant to force his way. The boat was heavy and flat-bottomed. Any extra weight at one end would always cause the other to stand up clear of the water. The wall of stone that formed the foundation of the big wooden building was only a few inches above the level of the still water. It was safe to have it thus, because there were no tides, no disturbances of the surface at any time, or, at least, very few. The tall reeds and grass made such a protection that the water was practically stagnant most of the time. Patsy made his way to the stern, and also carried there the oars, a can of bait, a landing net, boat hook, and other things in the boat, as well as the two guns belonging to himself and Nick Carter. “I’ll weight it down all I can,” he said to himself. The bow of the boat shot up in the air so that it would easily clear the top of the stone foundation. It was pointing directly at the boards Patsy was prepared to attack. The water was not deep at this point--in fact, at one time, there had been ground, more or less solid, above the surface--so Patsy dug the end of an oar into the bottom and, with a hard shove, sent the boat full tilt against the boards. There was a crash as the end of the boat tore its way through. At the same time the fumes of ammonia gushed forth so fiercely that they tainted all the outside atmosphere. Patsy was hurled flat upon his back, and the oar broke in two and floated slowly away. The bow of the boat remained on the edge of the stone wall, poking a little way into the cellar. “Chief!” cried Patsy. “Are you there?” “Of course I am,” was the reply. “Can’t you get that boat out of the way, so that I can crawl out?” “Sure! Just hold your mules a minute! She’s in pretty tight--as the butcher said to the pound of sausage meat--but I can pry her out, I guess. In fact, I have to. Gee! She went in for keeps, but her little cousin, Patsy, wants her outside!” Chattering thus, hardly knowing what he said, Patsy stood in the bow and shoved against the wall with all his strength. The result was what he might have expected, although, perhaps, he had not thought of it. The boat slipped away from him, and he found himself clinging to the stone wall, his head in the cellar--where the fumes of ammonia made him cough--and a large expanse of empty water under his legs and feet. “Holy Samuel!” he gasped. “Here’s more of it!” He got to one side of the ledge, so that Nick Carter had room to crawl out, and looked in dismay at the boat slowly drifting away. “There’s only one thing to be done, Patsy!” observed Nick. “I know it. But I ain’t going to get wetter than I’m obliged,” was Patsy’s prompt response. “I’ll leave my duds behind me.”