Jed, in the course of his
varied experience afloat and ashore, had picked up a working
knowledge of gasoline engines and, anyhow, as he informed his small
passenger, the "Araminta's" engine didn't need any expert handling.
"She runs just like some folks' tongues; just get her started and
she'll clack along all day," he observed, adding philosophically,
"and that's a good thing--in an engine."
"I know whose tongue you're thinking about, Uncle Jed," declared
Barbara. "It's Mr. Gabe Bearse's."
Jed was much amused; he actually laughed aloud. "Gabe and this
engine are different in one way, though," he said. "It's within
the bounds of human possibility to stop this engine."
They threaded the last winding channel and came out into the bay.
Across, on the opposite shore, the new sheds and lumber piles of
what was to be the aviation camp loomed raw and yellow in the
sunlight. A brisk breeze ruffled the blue water and the pines on
the hilltops shook their heads and shrugged their green shoulders.
The "Araminta" chugged across the bay, rising and falling ever so
little on the miniature rollers.
"What shall we do, Uncle Jed?" asked Barbara. "Shall we go to see
the camp or shall we have our chowder and luncheon first and then
go?"
Jed took out his watch, shook it and held it to his ear--a
precautionary process rendered necessary because of his habit of
forgetting to wind it--then after a look at the dial, announced
that, as it was only half-past ten, perhaps they had better go to
the camp first.
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