Hal got the measuring stick out of the locker and Bee dropped one end of it through the opening. It produced a very empty sound as it struck the bottom of the tank and when Bee pulled it out only a quarter of an inch was wet. The boys looked at each other in dismay. Then Bee laughed.
“Aren’t we a nice little bunch of launchers?” he asked. “How far will that take us, Jack?”
Jack shook his head. “Hard to tell. It may take us all the way back and it may not. Haven’t any more aboard, have you?”
“Gasoline? Not a bit,” replied Hal.
“Couldn’t use oil, could we?” Bee questioned. “We’ve got quite a supply of that, unless Hal’s slopped it all on the engine.”
“Well, we’ll keep her going,” said Jack. “After the gas gives out we’ll use the oars. Luckily it’s nice and smooth.”
“And I just love to row,” murmured Bee. “It—it’s so poetic. ‘Merrily we row along, row along, row along!’ Say, how would it do to imitate the Irishman who was painting the fence? You know he hurried to get through before the paint gave out. Maybe if we put her at full speed we can get home before the gasoline’s all gone!”
“She’s sputtering now,” said Hal sadly. They listened. Yes, she was already “missing.”
“She’ll go a long time yet, though,” said Jack. “Probably we won’t have to row more than a couple of miles.”