“All right, but it’s pretty dark where you are. How far away am I?”
“Oh, nearly a hundred yards, I guess. Pull her out and float in. Can you see those boats at the moorings?”
“Yes; but I can’t see the float yet. They ought to have a light there.” The chug-chug of the Frolic exhaust lessened, and the white launch slid silently into the shadows. Presently:
“Way enough,” called Toby. “Reverse her a couple of turns, Arn.”
In a moment the Frolic thrust her bow into Toby’s waiting hands, and he fended her off and brought her side-to. “Want to tie up?” he asked. “Or shall we run around awhile?”
“If you’ll take her,” replied Arnold. “I don’t like this moonlight business. It’s awfully confusing after you get into the harbor.”
“All right. Swing your wheel over hard and I’ll push her off. That’s the ticket.” Toby sprang aboard and took the wheel from Arnold and the launch set off again. Once outside the harbor, with the engine throttle down until it made almost no sound, the two boys compared notes.
“I’ve got seven fellows,” Arnold reported, “and I know where I can get four more. Frank will pitch for us and a chap named Dodson is going to catch. Frank says he’s a dandy. All I need now is a good shortstop and another fielder. All the fellows,” he added ruefully, “want to play the bases—or pitch. It’s funny how many of them are wonderful pitchers, when they tell it! How did you get on?”
“Me? Not very well. Tim Chrystal has promised to pitch if he doesn’t have to do any practicing, and I got three other fellows to promise to play. The trouble is, you see, most of them are older than I am and they don’t like the idea of my being captain. Tim said he thought Billy Conners ought to be. What do you think?”
“Nothing doing! You’re getting up the team, and you’re captain, of course. If they don’t like it, get some one else.”