“Now, don’t get a grouch on,” he advised, “and tell Jule that he came near defeating all our plans.
He mistook someone for me, but that wasn’t anything unusual. I’ve made mistakes about people before now myself. Just let it all go, and the kid won’t have the thing to worry over.”
“I wonder where he went last night?” Case said, doggedly.
“Why, he told us that he went to see Dr. Holcomb,” Clay explained. “He’ll tell us what he went to see him about when he gets ready. Now, don’t forget and let the cat out of the bag.”
“Don’t you ever think I will,” promised Case. “I’ll go now and see Captain Joe, and tell him to be quick with the gasoline, and he’ll have it on board before noon. Good old boy, Captain Joe.”
“There never was any better!” echoed Clay. While they talked a stoutish, gray-haired man with a very red face and a wooden leg not at all concealed by his trousers came stumping down the pier, waving a pudgy hand in greeting.
“Morning, boys!” he cried.
“Morning, Captain Joe!” answered the boys, in a breath. “We were just going up to see you about the gasoline. We’re off to-day, you know,” they both shouted, talking so fast that neither sensed that the other was speaking.
Captain Joe came to where the boys stood and looked the motor boat over critically. He had been a sea captain for years, and was never so happy as when passing judgment on a vessel. Two years before he had met with an accident which had deprived him of one leg, and since that time he had gained a living by conducting a little ship and motor boat supply store not far from the slip where the Rambler lay. His practical suggestions had been invaluable to the boys in fitting out the Rambler.
“She looks fit as a fiddle,” the old man declared, cocking his head to one side and running his eyes over the graceful lines of the craft. “When you get out into the ocean just keep her head on, and she’ll sail like a duck. My! It would be a treat to go along with you!”