"Who's running this 'ere boat, Jim?" suddenly spoke up one of the
passengers. "I thought you said this was your yacht."
"I did say so," answered Jim promptly. "I'm just taking out a
pleasure party. Didn't you never go to no picnic afore? I want
you to be good, for we have got comp'ny on board. When you have
got guests you have to be perlite whether you want to be or not."
Still the Black Growler was moving swiftly. The waters over which
she was passing seethed and boiled as if they had been heated by
unseen fires. Even Fred had lost a part of his alarm as he began
to suspect that his uninvited passengers did not know how to
manage the boat. If they did, it was difficult to understand why
they had not yet driven the boys away and taken charge.
There was another thought in Fred's mind that was perplexing. He
suspected that the supply of gasoline was running low. He had
neglected to have the tank filled the preceding night, believing
that he had a supply ample to carry them forward until they could
obtain more. Suppose the motor-boat should stop? What would the
men do? They might accuse him of deliberately stopping and in
that event he was aware that there might be serious trouble.
Indeed, he was still puzzled to understand why the men appeared
to be so contented. If they had been workers on the canal, or had
been employed by any of the boats why was it that they were free
this morning? He was aware that the little city of Rome could not
be far away.
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