There was also a belt extending to a shaft pulley overhead, but beyond
this there was no trace of machinery, nor was there either boiler or
furnace. There was what looked like a stall at one end of the room, but
it contained only bales of hay and sacks of oats.
"Yes, sah, we uses a mewel-ingine when we hab um. We hain't got no mewel
at de present time, but we 'specs ter contrac' fer one shortly,"
explained the negro, noting Winn's inquiring glances, as he assisted him
to remove his wet garments.
Before the boy had a chance to ask the questions that were at his
tongue's end, he, as well as the other occupants of the boat, was
startled by a loud hail from the river.
"Hello! What steamer is that?"
"The _Whatnot_, of Dubuque," was the answer.
"Do you know the Sheriff of Dubuque County?"
"Who--Riley? Yes, I know him."
"Do you know his skiff?"
"As well as I know my own boat, for I built it."
"Have you seen it pass down the river to-day, containing only a boy
between sixteen and seventeen years old?"
"No. Haven't seen it or any other skiff. What's the matter? Has it
been stolen?"
"That'll do, thank you. Good-night," came the reply, without an answer
to this last question, and then the stranger passed out of hearing down
the river.
CHAPTER XV.
"CAP'N COD," SABELLA, AND THE _WHATNOT_.
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