“No, but I operated a gas-engine once for about six months and got pretty well acquainted,” answered Billy. “That was in a pottery.” He looked over the engine for a moment in silence, his sharp eyes twinkling from one part to another. “Let’s see how the gasolene is coming. Maybe—hello!”
“What?” asked Dick.
“Why, your cock under the carbureter has worked open and all your gasolene is running into the well. No wonder! Got a monkey-wrench?”
“No, we haven’t,” answered Dick.
“Well, the handle will do. All it needs is just a tap to tighten it. There! Didn’t you try to flood your carbureter?”
“No,” answered Dick a trifle sheepishly. “We forgot it the last time.”
“If you had you’d have seen where the trouble was, because she wouldn’t have flooded. Now let’s see.”
One turn and the engine started. Billy retarded the spark until he saw that the Minerva was following all right, and then pushed the lever in. The launch gathered speed and in a moment was cutting through the water in a way that brought an admiring ejaculation from even Chub. But Billy wasn’t satisfied.
“That carbureter isn’t regulated very well,” he said. So he went at that, Dick watching, and screwed and screwed until he had it to suit him. “That’s better,” he said. He wiped his hands on the piece of waste and looked over the boat. “A nice little launch,” he said. “And a good engine. You’re getting fully two and a half horse-power out of it, I guess.”