“Keep it up and you may get her up to seven.”
But six seemed to be the limit of the engine’s willingness and soon he gave it up.
“No use to crank your head off,” he panted as he got to his feet. “She just won’t go that’s all, and—”
The freckled faced boy, who happened to be looking toward the shore, interrupted him:
“There’s Jack Golden on the hotel porch. He can fix about anything that’s fixable. Hello, Jack. Come out here a minute, will you?”
Jack Golden, a sturdy well set up boy of about the same age as the others, glanced up from the paper he was reading, and, seeing who was calling him, ran down the steps.
“Hello, Cherub. What seems to be the main difficulty?” he asked as soon as he reached the end of the pier.
“There’s no ‘seems’ about it. It just won’t go that’s all.”
“Where there’s a result there’s always a reason,” Jack declared as he jumped into the boat. “Sure your gas and spark are all right?”
“Yep, and so’s everything else except that she won’t go.”