On the creek floated a monument to the ingenuity of Bill Quince. Contrary to accepted naval traditions, the _Nancy Jane_ was in two parts. A rusty traction engine rested upon a decked scow almost square in form. It was geared by belt, chains and sprockets to a water wheel as wide as the scow and attached to its stern. This was the power plant, and, coupled to the front of it, was a second scow of like width but greater length. Decked over, railed, and covered by a wooden canopy, it furnished the passenger accommodations of the craft. Such disappointment as Virginia felt was swept aside by the profound admiration of Ike for this vessel. "Dat's er fine boat," he exclaimed. "Ah done had ma good times on dat ole boat. When you gits out on de cool river on dat ship you feels like er fightin' cock on er hot night." Ike's reference to the cool river encouraged his mistress to continue negotiations. "Can we rent it?" she asked. "You kin rent it if you want to. They hain't no law again it," the mariner agreed. "But I hain't sure that she's goin' to move none." His sporting blood was aroused. "I'll bet two bits that old engine is a-rusted tight." Virginia desired certainty. "How am I going to find out if the boat will go?" she worried. Approaching the car, Mr. Quince rested an elbow upon the edge of the door and a huge foot upon the running board. His thin jaw wagged incessantly and his eyes viewed the distant reaches of the river as he pensively ruminated upon the problem. At last a solution came to him. "We mought hist 'er over by hand," he told Ike. "Do what?" the girl inquired anxiously, puzzled at what was to be "histed." "See if we can turn the old engine over," explained Mr. Quince. Ike having agreed to the suggestion, he and the riverman clambered down the bank and across a plank to the deck of the _Nancy Jane_. A period of silence ensued, broken by violent language when Mr. Quince put his confidence in and his weight against a rotten lever. There followed the sound of strong men grunting and breathing heavily. A sudden scramble took place and with a great splash the wheel of the _Nancy Jane_ clove the amber surface of Hog Creek. Mr. Quince and Ike returned, perspiring freely. "She turned," declared Mr. Quince with pride. "She hain't rusted up much in nigh unto two year." "Is it settled? We can rent the boat?" demanded Virginia, all business. "I hain't so sure," replied the mariner doubtfully. "This yere river bottom changes every day. I hain't took the _Nancy Jane_ to Elgin's Grove in two year. I dunno as I knows where the old channel has gone. I guess I plum forgot." "Couldn't we get some one who knows the river?" Virginia failed to reckon with the pride of seafaring men. "There hain't no man knows the Lame Moose like I knows her," protested Mr. Quince greatly offended. "I allers was the pilot of the _Nancy Jane_ and I still aims so to be."