“Yes,” answered Nelson. “We’re out of gasoline. Have you got any?”
“No, we don’t use it,” laughed the other.
“Can you give us a tow, then?”
“Where do you want to go?”
“Anywhere we can get more gasoline.”
“Well, I’m bound for Sanstable. If you want to make fast to the stern of the schooner back there you can. But I cal’ate if you wait awhile you’ll find some feller bound toward Boston.”
There was a hurried conference. They were tired of lying there, and Sanstable sounded as good as any other place.
“We’ll go with you,” answered Nelson.
“All right. Get your mud hook up and be ready to throw a line to the schooner as she goes by.”
The tug started on slowly, the boys pulled the anchor up, and Nelson found a sixty-foot rope which would serve as a towline. By good luck, the man on the schooner caught it at the first throw, ran aft with it, and made it fast, and in another moment the Vagabond was sliding through the water once more at a seven-mile gait. The crew of the schooner, the Lizzie and May of Rockport, laden with big blocks of granite, came aft and smoked their pipes and observed the launch with phlegmatic interest.