The tackle was soon rigged. Tom Reade and Harry Hazelton, who possessed the keenest interest in things mechanical, aided the boat builder under his direction. Back and forth over the spot the scow moved, while the grapples were frequently shifted and recast. "Stop the engine," called Driggs. "We've hooked into something!" Laura turned somewhat pale for a moment; Belle, too, looked uneasy. The same thought had crossed both girls' minds. What if the tackle had caught the body of some drowned man? "We'll shift about here a bit," Driggs proposed, nodding to the engineer to stand by ready to stop or start the engine on quick signal. Before long the grappling hook of another line was caught; "The two lines are about twelve feet apart," Driggs announced. "My idea is that we've caught onto two cross braces of the canoe. If so we'll have it up in a jiffy." Both lines were now made fast to the derrick, in such a way that there would be an even haul on both lines. Belting was now connected between the engine and a windlass. "Haul away, very slowly," Driggs ordered. Up came the lines, an inch at a time. Belle and Laura could not resist the temptation to go to the edge of the scow and peer over. "I see something coming up," cried Belle at last. "It's the canoe," said Tom Reade, trying to speak carelessly, though there was a ring of exultation in his voice. Nearer and nearer to the surface of the water came the canoe. "Now, watch for my hand signal all the time," called Driggs. "I don't want to get the middle part of the canoe more than an inch above the surface." When the point of the canoe's prow rose above the surface of the water a cheer went up from the scow that carried the news instantly back to the landing float. Danny Grin stood up, waving his hat and cheering hoarsely, while the girls who surrounded him waved handkerchiefs and parasols. Then the gunwale appeared just above water along the whole length. "It will be a hard job to bail her out now," Dave declared. "Not so hard that it will worry you any," Driggs smiled. He dragged a pump over, allowing its flexible pipe to rest down into the water in the canoe. "Now, some of you youngsters get hold of the pump handles," Driggs ordered. Five high school boys got hold with a will. Gradually, as the water was emptied out of her the canoe rose higher and higher in the water. There was no cheering, now, from the boys on the scow. They were using all their breath working the pump, while Driggs carefully directed the bottom of the flexible tubing. "There!" declared Driggs at last. "Barring a little moisture, your canoe is as dry as ever it was, boys. I can't see a sign of a leak anywhere, either. But don't make a practice of tipping it over every day, for I can't afford to leave my work to help you out. There's your canoe, and she's all right." Dick got hold of the painter at the bow, while Driggs released the grappling tackle.