“Yes, that’s our boat,” replied the boy. “Our gasoline tanks are empty. Can I buy a supply in town, do you think?”
“Certainly!” was the answer. “Father keeps it for sale. During the course of the season a good many motor boats tie up here. We keep all manner of supplies.”
“Well, then,” Alex replied, “We’d like to get about a dozen spark plugs. I don’t think that porcelain insulation is as good as it used to be, for we break a good many. They go smash at the least little jar.”
“All right!” the young man replied. “Step up there and tell father what you want and he’ll open the store now. Are your friends on the boat awake?”
“Sure!” replied Alex. “They’re all awake except the bear and the bulldog.”
The young man laughed and turned toward the pier, while Alex hastened toward the place where the old gentleman sat on the store platform.
The boy explained his wants briefly and the old gentleman unlocked the battered door of his place of business. It was an uncouth, unpainted, sidling little store, with broken panes showing in the windows and new shingles speckling the roof.
The interior, however, showed considerable care in the arrangement of goods and the stock seemed to be large and of good quality. Without making any pretense of waiting on the boy, the old dealer, who introduced himself as Martin Groger, seated himself in a much whittled arm chair and pointed Alex to another.
“Boy,” he said with a very serious expression of countenance, “did you sleep in the motor boat at the mouth of Wolf Creek last night?”
“Part of the night,” answered Alex.