“Well, will it?”
“Watch.”
Paul clambered into the driver’s seat and threw in a small switch. Then he turned on the gasoline and adjusted the carburetor.
“Look out!” he shouted.
As he spoke, he turned a crank which he had geared to a toothed wheel on the shaft. The engine turned over once or twice, and only a sort of low sigh resulted. Suddenly there came a sharp sound, like twin explosions.
Chug-chug!
“Hooray, she’s off!” shouted Tubby.
Faster and faster the engine began to revolve, the smoke from its exhausts filling the place with smothering vapor. Through the blue haze, they could see the aeroplane propeller threshing round at terrific speed. The frame of the novel craft quivered, as if anxious to move off. But, of course, it could not. The motor-scooter was built for traveling only upon the ice.
“How did you ever come to think of it?” asked Rob, as Paul shut off the engine and climbed out of his seat.
“Why, it was last winter,” explained Paul, “you remember the inlet was frozen, and we had iceboat races on it? Well, I was watching them, and thinking why it wouldn’t be possible to make an ice motor-boat. First off, I couldn’t see how to do it. I figured around, however, and at last I thought out a way. But I didn’t have money enough to buy a motor, so I gave up the idea. Then Higgins’ auto blew up and took fire. He was disgusted, and when I offered him a small price for the engine he was delighted. He wouldn’t take anything for it, in fact. He figured that the fire had spoiled it. So it had, pretty well, but I fixed it up—and—well, there she is, and what do you think of her?”