“There’s the lighthouse, boys! We’ll put in there for repairs.”
There, looming up in the sun was the big white tower that stood on a rocky point which jutted out from the main land. It was still several miles away, but their present course was taking them straight toward it. It was the lower or South light, as it was called, the one the boys had intended to visit, but which they had not as yet.
“I hope he’s got gasolene there,” said Jerry. “I can mend the tank, and we can soon be home.”
“I guess Peter Hardack, the keeper, can fix you up,” spoke Sam. “He keeps a lot of supplies on hand.”
An hour later they were at the lighthouse. The keeper saw them coming and was down to his small dock to meet them. When he saw Sam the keeper exclaimed:
“If it isn’t my old friend! What have you done, turned motor pirate?”
The sailor briefly explained their plight.
“Come right in!” exclaimed the hospitable Mr. Hardack. “I’ll get you some breakfast and you can dry your clothes.”
“Have you any gasolene, and can we send a message to Harmon Beach?” asked Jerry anxiously.
“Both, sonny. Come right in.”