“Oh, I’m so disappointed,” said Bee. “I hoped we’d have the pleasure of rowing all the way! ‘Gasoline! Gasoline! First you put it in the tank; then you turn—’”
“Oh, cut out the funny-business!” begged Hal. “It’s a wonder you wouldn’t have reminded me that the tank was low.”
“It’s a wonder you wouldn’t have reminded me to remind you,” replied Bee imperturbably. “Anyhow, why be tragic? Rather let us eat, drink and be merry, for presently we row! And speaking of drinking, fellows, a nice cold glass of lemonade wouldn’t go badly. Or even a chocolate ice-cream soda.”
Hal had walked disgustedly back to the engine and now, with oil-can in hand, was anxiously watching its dying efforts. Whenever the carbureter gasped he slathered oil right and left. The Corsair’s speed diminished little by little until finally Jack was called on to decide whether she was actually progressing at all. She was still pushing forward, however, and Nobody’s Island looked very near, although Jack dashed Bee’s elation by declaring that distances across water were deceptive and that a good mile and a half still separated them from home.
“We can make it before supper time, though,” he added.
“Before supper time!” ejaculated Hal. “What time is it now, then?”
“Ten minutes to four. Rowing a launch is mighty slow work, and we’ll have the tide against us, too. What locker are the oars in?”
“Over here. I’ll get them.” Hal pulled up the lid after some exertion. “No, they must be on the other side. Look here, I thought we put—yank that lid off, Jack!”
“No oars here,” said Jack quietly as he looked in.
“And no boat-hook! And no—no nothing! Somebody’s swiped them! Bee, do you hear? Somebody’s stolen the oars and the boat-hook and that new rope and—”