“Huh!” grunted Nick, scornfully; “when you beat that record I’ve hung up, just wake me, and let me know. Time enough then to get a hustle on. Just now it’s up to you, Jimmy, to do all the worrying. I’m going to take things easy after this.”
“All right, me bhoy, just do that same, and by the pipers it’s ye that will be hearin’ a cowld, dull thud, which will be that record droppin’ to the earth. Sure, it do be a long lane that has no turnin’; and sooner or later, belave me, ’twill be me day.”
They made a brave start. George was quite elated with the splendid way his engine worked, and frowned whenever Nick made out to mention that his word had been pledged about that change of motive power at Tampa.
Two hours later the inevitable came to pass.
“George has hauled up short, Jack!” Herb called out; for the Comfort was not a great distance behind the Tramp at the time, with the other boat, as usual, ahead.
“Perhaps waiting for us?” suggested Jack; but the smile on his face declared that he entertained different ideas about the stoppage.
“That may be,” replied Herb, skeptically; “but the chances are he’s bucking up against trouble again. Won’t we all be pleased as Punch when he does get a motor that can motor without eternally breaking down? There, Nick’s waving his red bandana, which I take it means they’ve broken down.”
And so it proved. A weak place had developed as usual, so that George would be compelled to spend an hour or two mending the same.
Herb generously offered to give him a tow; but this the proud spirit of George would not brook. It was bad enough having to suffer that ignominy when threatened with a storm, but when the gulf was smooth nothing could induce him to accept.
“You fellows go right along,” George called out; “and I’ll overtake you later.”