“I know a heap more now,” observed Bee, gravely.
“So we started. She went finely for about ten minutes and we were down off The Lump. Then she stopped. I told Bee to get busy and find out what the trouble was and he monkeyed around with a wrench and a screw-driver for almost half an hour.”
“I deny it!” exclaimed Bee. “I knew at once where the trouble lay!”
“Yes, you did!”
“I certainly did! It was in the engine.”
“Oh! Well, it took you long enough to dig it out. Anyhow, we got her started again and she went like a breeze; must have made at least twelve miles an hour, Jack, and we were about two miles down the shore when—bing, stopped again!”
“And she’s been ‘binging’ ever since,” murmured Bee.
“By then it was time for lunch. So we rowed ashore near the life saving station and walked up to that little store where the old toll-gate used to be. It’s quite a ways up there.”
“About ten miles,” said Bee thoughtfully.
Jack laughed. “I dare say it seemed that far if you were hungry. It’s about three-quarters of a mile, I guess.”