“Well, we were hungry,” replied Bee. “I was, at any rate. I’d had nothing since breakfast but that nasty yellow cup-grease and gasoline.”
“We bought some crackers and some sardines and two oranges. I’ll bet old man Doonin had had them all for at least six months.”
“I think they were some of his Christmas stock left over,” remarked Bee reflectively.
“They were pretty fierce, anyway, and we decided the best thing to do was to hike home and get a real feed. So we went back to the launch and tried to start her again. But she wouldn’t start—”
“It was another case of ‘bing!’” said Bee.
“And it took us all of an hour to get going. Bee and I took turns at the fly wheel—”
“I beg your pardon?” remarked Bee, sitting up quickly. “Did I understand you to say that we took turns? Allow me to correct you, Hal, I took turns!”
“Well, I like your cheek! My arm’s as stiff as—as—as a board! And it aches every time I move it! I’ll bet I turned that old wheel over two thousand times today; and it weighs a ton, too!”
“What sort of an engine has she got?” asked Jack.