“Yes, ma’m. It’s begging for a honeymoon tent. And you owe the sight of it to chewing-gum.”
At this remark the launch remembered its owner, and stopped.
Marvin sprang over into the waist and lifted the big can. It came up like a feather. He shook it in amazement, and not the slightest swishing was heard.
“Jean, we are stuck. The chief and I had a few words before the armistice, and he has lightened our fuel for us.”
“But we have the dory.”
“So we have. Do you see any lights on shore?”
“I can’t say that I do. Everything is solid black woods.”
“Well, I’m ready to row. Kindly move over to my seat and take the wheel. Where do we go from here?”
Jean took the wheel and shut her eyes to think.
“Marvin, it is much nearer to go south than to turn back. You paddle and I’ll steer.”