“Gee! If we get up against any more mysteries I’m going to quit and go back home,” breathed Persimmons agitatedly to himself. “What with spook motor boats, mysterious ghostly lights and strange doings on uninhabited islands, and lastly these sanded carburetors, life along the St. Lawrence is getting too rich for my blood.”
In response to Persimmons’ summons, Ralph came below. The young captain’s shipmate explained the state of the case to him.
“What do you make of it?” he concluded.
Ralph could only assume a puzzled expression.
“I don’t know what to say,” he said.
“Well, Malvin and Hansen are pretty well eliminated, don’t you think?”
“I guess so. I agree with you that neither is possessed of enough technical engineering knowledge to enable him to cripple a motor in this fashion.”
“That settles that, then. But it is equally certain that none of us did it.”
“That goes without saying.”
“Then we come down to one culprit,” announced Percy, looking important.