Between them, Hardrock and Micky got the Sheriff’s launch back into the water, and the boy fell to work. There was no occasion to construct a siphoning arrangement, for he discovered that the leak lay in the piping connections, and stopped it temporarily with some soap. When he had run five gallons of gasoline into the tank and turned over the engine, it functioned perfectly.
“Hop in, Nelly!” he sang out. “We’ll get back ’fore dark.”
“Thank you for coming over, dear girl,” said Hardrock, as he gave Nelly a hand and helped her into the boat. “If I don’t come around before then, I’ll see you Thursday night. Good-by, and good luck!”
“Good-by,” she answered quietly. Then, as the boat circled out from shore, he saw her turn a laughing face, and lift her fingers to her lips, blowing him a kiss. For a moment he stood astounded, then a laugh broke from him, and a long shout.
“I may not wait until Thursday—after that!” he called, and she waved her hand in farewell. Then the launch was drawing around for the point, and passed from sight.
Sheriff Fulsom appeared from the bushes, and he regarded Hardrock with twinkling eyes.
“Gosh, ye look right happy over something!” he commented dryly. “Say, this was a good job ye done, too—got us a launch all shipshape! They’ll recognize my launch over to St. James, but no matter. Nobody’ll see it until tomorrow anyhow.”
“You heard what she told me?” demanded Hardrock. The Sheriff nodded.
“Yep. I don’t know that boat, but no matter. She’s our meat, I reckon, if she’ll only come and pick up that shipment o’ case goods! But what about them fellows coming over here tonight?” His shrewd gaze inspected Hardrock gayly. “Looks to me like you and Dunlevy are bound to fight it out, young fellow!”
Hardrock chuckled. “We should worry about what happens tonight. I’m your prisoner and if you don’t protect me— Hello! Sheriff, where are your binoculars? Get ’em!”