They had paused to fish and to bathe; they had thrown together
a makeshift aquaplane from the pieces of an old float which they had
found, and had ridden gayly upon it; and their course had been so
leisurely and rambling that they had not yet reached Poughkeepsie, when
all of a sudden the engine stopped.
Roy went through the usual course of procedure to start it up, but
without result. There was not a kick left in it. Silently he unscrewed
the cap on the deck, pushed a stick into the tank and lifted it
out--dry.
"Boys," said he, solemnly, "there is not a drop of gasoline in the tank.
The engine must have used it all up. Probably it has been using it all
the time----"
"You make me sick," said Pee-wee.
"I have known engines to do that before."
"Didn't I tell you to get gasoline in Newburgh?" demanded Pee-wee.
"You did, Sir Walter, and would that we had taken your advice; but I
trusted the engine and it has evidently been using the gasoline while
our backs were turned. _We_ should worry! You don't suppose it would run
on witch hazel, do you?"
"Didn't I tell----" began Pee-wee.
"If we could only reduce friend Walter to a liquid," said Roy. "I think
we could get started all right--he's so explosive."
"Bright boy," said Tom.
"Oh, I'm a regular feller, I am," said Roy. "I knew that engine would
stop when there wasn't any more gasoline--I just felt it in my bones.
But what care we!
'Oh, we are merry mountaineers,
And have no carking cares or fears--
Or gasoline.
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