“There she goes!” exclaimed Ed.
“You mean there she doesn’t go!” corrected Walter.
“Get the talcum powder,” suggested Jack.
“I’m sure Dray didn’t use the tooth brush on her before we came out,” spoke Jack, accusingly.
The boys had a way of doing the most absurd things, from a mechanical standpoint, whenever their motors refused to mote. They would dust talcum powder on the cylinder tops, or tie a piece of baby-blue ribbon on the pet-cock when they had exhausted every other means of making a rebellious motor operate.
And the odd part of it was that, often, when they had done these seemingly silly things, the boat would start. So they were rather superstitious about it, and they did carry a tin of talcum powder with them, much to the amusement of the girls.
In turn the usual sources of trouble were looked for and eliminated one after the other.
No wires seemed to have broken, the current was good, the vibrator buzzed when the contact was made and there was plenty of gasoline in the tank.
“Put in a new spark plug,” suggested Jack.
“New ones went in to-day,” answered Dray. “They can’t have sooted already. It isn’t there.”