“Aw, now don’t you get excited,” said Mike, with a leering grin. “It takes men to fight a fire.”
“What’s in those boxes?” Florence demanded, ignoring their banter.
“We don’t know exactly,” said Tony. “Mebby they might be pumps.”
“Pumps?” The girl’s eyes widened. “Why don’t you open them up and see?”
“Captain’s gone,” said Mike. “Left yesterday. We can’t—”
“You can’t do a thing until he comes back!” There was biting sarcasm in Florence’s voice. “Not if the whole island burned!”
“That’s what we want,” Tony jeered. “Exactly it. When it’s all burned we can go back to the mainland.
“Lookit,” he waxed fairly eloquent, “What sort a place is this? Y’ can’t crank up the flivver on Saturday night and go to town ’cause there ain’t no flivver. An’ y’ can’t go see the girls and get a glass a beer ’cause there ain’t no gals and there ain’t no beer.”
“Too bad!” said Florence, reaching for an ax that was leaning against the dock house, and giving one of the six boxes a sharp crack.
“Y’ can’t do that!” Tony exclaimed. “Government property.”