It was still early in the morning and the owners or
guests on board the Caledonia were not seen on deck.
"What's wrong? What's the trouble?" called the captain, leaning
over the rail and speaking to Fred.
"We have had trouble," replied Fred. "A gang of tramps or canal
men forced themselves on board and we have just gotten rid of
them. When they saw the Caledonia coming they all ran."
"Well, if you have got rid of them," said the captain gruffly,
"what more do you want? If you go ahead they won't catch up with
you."
"But we can't go ahead."
"Why not?"
"Our gasoline is out."
"We don't run by gasoline," said the captain, "and I'm afraid
steam wouldn't do you any good."
"Perhaps you might give us a tow as far as Rome."
"Perhaps we might and then--"
"What's the trouble?" Fred looked up quickly as he saw a man
about fifty years of age approaching the rail and standing near
the captain of the yacht. He wore a yachting cap and it was plain
to the perplexed boy that he either was the owner of the
beautiful boat or one whose word counted for much.
"We have had our troubles," explained Fred once more. "A gang of
tramps forced their way on board our boat and they have just left
us. Our gasoline is out and I was asking the captain if he would
be willing to give us a tow as far as Rome."
"Of course he will," said the man heartily.
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