“’Cause the battery connection is broken, young un,” he said. “An automatic arrangement lets a spark shoot across at just the right instant.”
“Oh, I see,” said Aleck.
All but Jim Benton found it very hard to stop work.
“I’m awful glad none of you fellers ain’t my boss,” he said, dryly. “I ain’t worked like this for many a day. Yes, I’ve ordered a tank o’ gasoline; an’ it ought to be here pretty soon.”
The fuel, however, was late in arriving; so, leaving Joe in charge, the others set off to see about provisions for the trip. Jim Benton accompanied them.
“Don’t see why they asked me to stay,” grumbled Joe, dangling his legs over the wharf. “Gee whiz, here comes the stuff now.”
A wagon drew up.
“Hey!” said the driver.
“Hey yourself!” said Joe, pleasantly. “Trot off your old gasoline.”
“All right, bub!” And the man began unloading a number of cans.