“That’s all right,” laughed one of the men. “We never can tell when we might want a helping hand ourselves. Pass us the rope.”
It was flung over. The two boats were now bobbing side by side, for they were well out in the bay, and the sea was quite choppy. The tide was running out, and help had come to the boys not any too soon.
The rope, passing from the bow of the Dixie, where it was made fast to a ring bolt in the deck, was caught on to a cleat in the stern of the other boat.
“You’ll look after the steering; will you?” asked one of the men.
“Surely,” answered Dray.
“Because there’s nothing harder than towing a boat that yaws from side to side,” the man went on.
“We’ll keep a straight course,” declared the owner of the speedy boat that had proved such a disappointment of late. “We know something about gasoline craft.”
“Glad to hear it,” remarked one of the occupants of the rescuing boat, in a grumbling sort of voice. “There’s so many launched on the bay now, with a lot of chaps running them who don’t know any more than to turn on the gasoline and switch on the spark.”
“And girls, too,” added another of the men. “Though I must say there are some girls here who——”
“Easy there!” called one of the rescuers sharply.