“Nothing.”
Hardrock frowned. “Something you don’t want to tell me, you mean?”
“Yes. Please don’t ask.”
For a moment Hardrock looked into the troubled depths of her eyes, and the answer came to him. He remembered his talk with her father; he could make a shrewd guess at about what that sort of a man would do and say to the girl.
“All right, I wont,” he said abruptly. “You remember what we were talking about when the boat came along and you had to jump in and go? About Arizona, and you, and Danny’s picture of you. That’s why I came up here to the Beavers, Nelly. Now let’s not have any discussion of the question. I don’t want to know what your father said, or how he may have reported what I said to him. The facts are that I came here because I had seen your picture, and now that I’ve met you, I’m going to stay here for a while. I told your father so, and it’s nothing to be ashamed of. Here’s Micky coming back, so let’s drop the subject until a better time. I’ll be taking you to the dance Thursday night, as the boys say. What’s the good word, Micky?”
The grease-smeared lad grinned widely.
“Ye can’t run an engine without a spark, can ye? Sure, she’s all right—I’ve got some extry batteries here and can fix her up in no time.”
“But that wont fix the leaky gas tank.” Hardrock looked at the boy’s boat—an open launch of no great size. “See here, Micky! Could you run off some gas into that big tin can aboard your boat, and siphon that into the carburetor, and run my launch into the harbor? If you can, there’s a ten-dollar bill for you. Leave your boat here and I’ll rent it until you can get my tank soldered up.”
“You bet!” exclaimed the youth eagerly. “Half an hour and I’ll have her in shape. You going back with me, Nelly?”
“Yes, and hurry up,” said the girl. “We don’t want to be out all day and night.”