When Helen left the close confines of the telephone booth after completing her call to the Associated Press she suddenly felt very weak and tired.
“What’s the matter?” Tom asked.
“I feel just a little faint,” confessed Helen. “Guess the excitement of getting the story and sending it in was a little too much.”
“Take my arm,” her brother commanded. “We’ll go back to the restaurant and get a glass of milk and a sandwich and you’ll feel all right in a few minutes.”
The food restored Helen’s strength and in less than half an hour she was her old self, ready to enjoy the Fourth of July celebration.
Every boat from Rolfe increased the size of the crowd at Sandy Point. The speedboats dashed down the lake carrying their capacity of passengers, turned and sped back to the town for another load. The Queen sedately churned its way through the lake, its double decks jammed with humanity. As they stood on the beach Helen wondered if the old lake boat would come through the day without a mishap. Almost any small accident could throw the passengers into a panic and the capsizing of the Queen might follow if they rushed to one side of the flat-bottomed old craft.
The Queen sidled up to the big pier at Sandy Beach and Capt. Billy Tucker stuck his white head out of a window in the pilot house and watched his passengers rush for the beach.
“He’s in his glory on a day like this,” Tom said, “but it’s probably the last year for the Queen. The boat inspectors won’t dare pass the old tub next year no matter how much they like Captain Billy.”
“What will he do if they don’t license the Queen?” asked Margaret.
“Oh, he’ll get along all right,” said Tom. “Captain Billy has plenty salted away. It’s just that he loves the lake and the Queen.”