Suddenly the distant explosions stopped—began again—stopped. Several times they were renewed at short intervals—“puh-puh-puh”——“puh-puh”——“puh-puh-puh-puh”—then they ceased altogether.
“Hello!” exclaimed the life-saver. “They’ve broken down.”
He picked up a pair of binoculars which had been lying on the veranda near him, and scanned the surface of the lake.
“Make her out?” queried Orme.
“No, she’s too small, and too far off.” He handed the night-glass to Orme, who in turn searched the water vainly.
“Whose boat is that moored to the breakwater?” asked Orme, lowering the glass.
“Belongs to a man here in town.”
“Would he rent it?”
“No. But he lets us run it once in a while. We keep an eye on it for him.”
Orme took out his watch. “It’s almost twelve,” he said. “You’ll be relieved in a few moments. Do you suppose I could persuade you to take me out to the other boat?”