“Give her a little more air,” proposed Walter. “I think she’s getting too rich a gasoline mixture.”
“I’m not going to touch the carbureter!” declared the young owner of the Dixie. “It was trouble enough to get her fixed before. Hand me that talcum.” Gravely he dusted some on the pump rod.
Then another attempt was made to start the motor, but it only sighed dismally, and refused to do its duty.
“I say!” cried Jack, looking up from where he had been examining the carbureter with an electrical pocket flash, “we’re drifting out to sea!”
“So we are!” agreed Ed. “Say, can’t you get her going?”
“Can’t seem to,” replied Drayton. “I’ll sell this boat and get another as soon as I can. She’s a nuisance!”
“Well, we sure are broken down,” sighed Jack, “and how we are going to get back to the cabin is more than I can figure out.”
“Let’s whistle for help,” suggested Walter.
“Look!” exclaimed Jack, pointing in the direction of shore. “There’s a light in Denny’s cabin!”
They all looked, and saw a flickering gleam of fire near the shack that had been deserted all day.