“An eight-horsepower Philbert.”
“I think myself it’s a chestnut,” observed Bee. “And if you think your arm aches, why, I just wish you had mine!”
“Did—did you get the boat started finally?” asked Faith anxiously. The boys laughed, and Faith, a pretty, dark-haired young lady, inclined to be shy, blushed.
“Yes, finally,” answered Hal. “That was about—what time, Bee?”
“About two hours after lunch time,” replied Bee, gloomily.
“Yes, about half-past two, I guess. Then she went pretty well for awhile, although she choked and coughed a good deal—”
“She has consumption,” said Bee, with a shake of his head. “She won’t last long.”
“She stopped once near the outer buoy and again just off the light. And that time Bee said he was going to fix her right and began to take the engine to pieces.”
“It was the only thing to do,” explained Bee gravely to Jack. “Take her to pieces and put her together again.”
“You got her to pieces all right,” continued Hal, “but you couldn’t get her together again.”