“That must have made you feel quarrelsome,” laughed Ida Silsbee.
“Oh, not exactly,” grinned Captain Tom. “I suppose I do know, in a general way, how a gasoline motor is put together, and how to run one, if I have to. But when it comes to motors I’m certainly not in Joe Dawson’s class. He’s a wonder when it comes to machinery.”
“But Dawson says,” interjected young Dixon, “that, when it comes to handling a boat anywhere and in any sort of weather, your equal is hard to find. You two appear to form a mutual admiration society.”
Though this was said with a laugh, and in a tone at which no offense could reasonably be taken, Tom Halstead nevertheless flushed. He had grown to look for slighting remarks from this young man.
“Oh, if it is a matter of believing that Captain Halstead and his friend are the brightest young men of their kind, I’ll subscribe,” ventured Ida Silsbee, promptly, whereat Dixon frowned as he turned his head away.
Too-oot! toot! toot! sounded shrilly from the end of the pier: Joe was tuning up the little auto whistle on the launch.
“I guess Dawson wants me,” said Tom, rising.
“Guess again,” laughed Mrs. Tremaine, in her languid way.
For, at that moment, Joe cast off from the pier, driving the little launch out into the lake. As Henry Tremaine had ordered this boat built and delivered at Lake Okeechobee lately, and had never seen her in operation, he now rose, and went over to the edge of the porch to watch her movements.