Jack proved the truth of his assertion by replacing the carburetor, and, a little later, by starting the engine without any trouble.
“Hurrah!” cried Paul. “That’s what it is to have a good mechanician aboard.”
“It’s a wonder you wouldn’t qualify yourself,” said Jack grimly. “Look at me! I’ll have to take a bath!” and he held up his hands, grimier than ever.
“There’s some of that mechanic’s soap—with pumice stone in it—in one of the lockers,” volunteered Cora. “Use that, Jack.”
The anchor was hauled in and the Corbelbes started up the river once more. Jack knelt down on one side of the stern deck, and, reaching down into the river, wet his hands, rubbing on them some pasty soap, guaranteed to remove grime of all kinds and leave most of the original skin.
“Where’s the camera?” asked Bess.
“What for?” demanded her sister.
“I want a view of Jack at his bath. Doesn’t he look cute?”
“Wait until I pose for you,” Jack suggested, making a lather of the soap. “I’m a dandy when it comes to poses. Just watch me.”
He stood up on the after deck, but his foot slipped on a bit of the lather that dropped from his hands, and, a moment later, Jack plunged overboard.