"Because they can't call me down for my slang. And believe muh--as the telephone girls say--I can use slang now and then--some!"

"It is aggravating; isn't it?" asked Dray.

"Aggravating, my dear chap, is hardly the word," drawled Ed. "It's humiliating!"

He brought that out in such a droll way that the others laughed.

For the engine of the motor boat still refused to be coaxed into going. They were being carried out toward the mouth of the bay on the outgoing tide, which was now running strongly. Soon they would be out to sea, and though the moon still shone brightly there was a haze in the sky that betokened a coming storm.

But it was not so much the fact of the stalled engine, nor that they were being carried out to sea, and were in some danger, that worried the boys.

"We're falling down on what we said we'd do," declared Jack. "We promised the girls that we'd save Denny from those fellows, and we can't do it. They may be at him now."

"We certainly saw a light at his cabin," ventured Ed.

"But we can't see it now," added Jack, straining his eyes for a glimpse of the spot where the fisherman's shack stood.

"Well, there's no use worrying over what can't be helped," observed Walter, philosophically. "We're here and not there. Denny will have to look out for himself--I guess he's able."

"That isn't the point," rejoined Jack. "There we took the case out of the girls' hands, so to speak. We said we were the big noise, and that we'd look after things. Then we go and get stuck miles from sh.o.r.e where we can't do a thing. They'll laugh at us when we do get back, if they don't do any worse."

"But we didn't know we were going to get stuck when we came out for a little run, after we found Denny wasn't home," said Dray.

"That's no excuse," returned Jack. "It's like a child breaking the looking gla.s.s and then saying he didn't mean to. Well, I know one thing Cora will say when we get back--if we ever do--and own up that we weren't on hand when the play came off."

"What will she say?" asked Dray. He was not well acquainted with the doings and sayings of the motor girls, as yet.

"She'll say that she and Bess and Belle and the rest of them could have done better themselves, if we'd left it to them. And I guess she'd be more than half right," sighed Jack.

"Well, there's no use crying over a bridge before you come to it,"

observed Dray. "Let's have another go at that engine."

They began their labors all over again. They even took out the spark plugs, though they had been new that afternoon.

Nothing could be found wrong there. The feed pipe from the gasoline tank was examined, but it seemed to provide a good flow. The timer was adjusted and readjusted. The coil was looked to. Everything, in short, that the boys could think of, or that previous trouble had taught them to look for, was tried, and all with no effect.

They even did more absurd things, such as the talc.u.m powder act, while Jack spouted some Latin verses at the forward cylinder. But the motor refused to mote.

"And, all the while, we're going out to sea," remarked Walter.

"Out to sea to see what we can see," said Jack.

"Oh, hush-a-bye-baby on the jokes," exclaimed Dray, a bit petulantly.

"If ever I buy a speed boat again you'll know it! A good old-fashioned make-and-break motor for mine after this--one you can depend on."

"Haven't you an oar or a paddle?" asked Ed.

"Not a thing that we could use to work against the tide," answered Dray, gloomily. "There's a boat hook, but that isn't any better than a straw. I left the oars out after the man got through fixing the motor to-day. He said I wouldn't need them."

"The regard that individual has for the truth is something scandalous!"

said Walter, grimly. "I shall acquaint him with the fact on my return."

"When we _do_ return," returned Jack, gloomily.

"Oh, we're bound to be picked up--sooner or later," declared Walter.

"Mostly later," went on Jack, more gloomily.

"Well, here goes for another try," said Dray.

"That's right. Maybe the machine has just been giving us a try-out,"

suggested Ed. "We certainly have said mean things about you, old Mote!"

he went on sarcastically. "Kindly forgive us and go. 'See by moonlight 'tis 'most midnight, time boat and us were home hour-and-a-half ago,'"

he said, quoting from the old nursery rhyme.

But the motor only coughed and sighed and wheezed like an old man with the asthma, and the boat still drifted.

They called, they blew on the compressed air whistle until all the reserve supply of oxygen was exhausted from the tank, and then they had to resort to their voices again.

"Well, there's one thing left," answered Jack, tragically.

"What is it?" begged Ed.

"We can swim for it. That's better than being carried out to sea.

Let's swim before it is too late."

"That's what I say!" exclaimed Dray. "Let the _Dixie_ go--she's no good!"

The others were considering Jack's startling proposal, when Ed looked up, and exclaimed:

"Hark! Don't you hear something?"

The others listened. Faintly from the direction of the sea came a sound--unmistakable.

"A boat!" cried Jack. "I'll not take off my coat yet."

"A motor boat, too," added Ed.

"And coming this way," went on Walter.

"Come on, fellows, give 'em a hail!" suggested Dray.

Up to now, with all their shouting and blowing of the whistle, they had neither seen nor heard of a craft. They had drifted too far out.

If any had come within hearing distance the occupants had paid no heed to the calls for help. Now there was one approaching, that was evident.

"All together, now!" called Jack, and they united their voices in a shout.

"There are her lights!" called Dray.