“Well, he had to know it some time. He isn’t quite blind.”
Clay reached the hold and dropping down into it, stood with head above the hatch coaming watching. He saw the Dingbat sweep past like an arrow, and Case, obedient to order, swing the Rambler around in slow, clumsy pursuit. Then he reached down to the motor and shoving over the lever to make a quicker spark, turned on a little more oil and air. He could feel the Rambler leap forward as he clambered out of the hold and walked forward.
The boys’ faces were a study. Case, his mouth wide open, was handling the wheel and gazing ahead at the great foamy waves parting away from the bow.
Alex, leaning over the side, was watching the foam slip by while amazement and surprise stood out on his freckled face. “Clay,” he shouted, “pinch me and see if I’m asleep or just plain crazy. Five minutes ago I was in a hearse, and now I’m in a flying machine.”
“Oh, she isn’t flying yet, laughed Clay. “She’s only just getting off the ground. Face around and have a good look at the Dingbat.”
The Rambler swept past the Dingbat like a trolley car past a loaded wagon. The Dingbat’s captain in assumed rage, rose to his feet and shook his fist at them as they swept by.”
“Look here,” he shouted. “I’m willing to race any motor boat around these parts, but I’ll be hanged if I’ll match my boat against a hydroplane.”
“Want more speed, Case?” Clay inquired. “I’ve only got three-fourths of the power turned on.”
“More speed?” yelled Case as he nearly swamped a passing row boat with the high waves which the Rambler’s bows sent rolling away from her. “More power?” he repeated, when the curses heaped on him by the row boat’s crew had died away behind. “The balance of the power would drive her under water, loaded as she is.”
“No,” Alex grinned. “It would send all the water in the South Branch clean up into the city in a series of tidal waves.”