“Oh, you shut up,” interrupted Dick good-naturedly.
“No sooner said than stung,” murmured Chub, flicking a shower of water with his paddle on to Dick’s back and bringing a howl from that youth.
“Are you going to get it?” asked Roy.
“He did get it,” Chub laughed.
“Yes, I think so. I thought I’d wait and talk it over with you fellows. Maybe we ought to have a larger boat; sixteen feet isn’t very long—”
“It’ll be all we want to row,” said Chub.
“We won’t have to row it,” answered Dick warmly. “It’s a Saxon launch, and they’re as good as any made.”
“How fast will it go?” Chub inquired, interestedly. “I mean when it does go?”
“It’s capable of eight miles an hour.”
“Humph! I’m capable of lots of things I don’t do.”