“Never mind about that,” broke in Aunt Kate. “I don’t know much about boats, but if this one isn’t being steered we may run into something.” “That’s so!” cried Betty. “But I didn’t want to go out on deck alone—slip your raincoats on, girls, and come with me! There may be—I mean some one may have set us adrift purposely!” “Oh, don’t say such things!” pleaded Grace, looking at the cabin ports as though a face might be peering in. Quickly Betty and Mollie got into their long, dark coats, and without waiting for slippers reached the after deck. As they looked ahead they saw a bright light bearing directly for them. It was a white light, and on either side showed a gleam of red and green. Then a whistle blew. “Oh, we’re going to be run down!” cried Mollie. “A steamer is coming directly for us, Betty!” “We won’t be run down if we can get out of the way!” exclaimed Betty, sharply. “Push that button—the automatic, I mean—and start the motor. I’ll steer,” and Betty grasped the wheel with one hand, while with the other she pulled the signal cord, sending out a sharp blast that indicated her direction to the oncoming steamer would be to port. The steamer replied, indicating that she would take the same course. Evidently there was some misunderstanding. “And we haven’t our side lamps going!” cried Betty, in alarm, as she realized the danger. “Quick, girls, come up here!” she called to Grace and Amy. “One of you switch on the electric lamps. At least they can see us, then, and can avoid us. Oh, I don’t know what to do! I never thought of this!” A sudden glow told that Amy had found the storage battery switch, for the red and green lights now gleamed. Again the on-coming steamer whistled, sharply—interrogatively. Betty answered, but she was not sure she had given the right signal. “Why don’t you start the motor?” she called to Mollie. “I can’t! It doesn’t seem to work.” “The switch is off!” exclaimed Grace, as she came out of the cabin. With a quick motion she shoved it over. “How stupid of me!” cried Betty. “I should have seen to that first. Try again, Mollie!” Again Mollie pressed the button of the self-starter, but there was no response. The _Gem_ was still drifting, seemingly in the very path of the steamer. “Why don’t they change their course?” wailed Amy. “Can’t they see we’re not under control? We can’t start! We can’t start!” she cried at the top of her voice, hoping the other steersman would hear. “The steamer can’t get out of the channel—that’s the reason!” gasped Betty. “I see now. It’s too shallow for big boats except in certain places here. We must get out of her way—she can’t get out of ours! Girls, we must start the motor!” “Then try it with the crank, and let the automatic go,” suggested Aunt Kate, practically. “Probably it’s out of order. You must do something, girls!”