The Argosy, January 1906 — page 143: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

A DOG AND A GASOLINE ENGINE. “1’m delighted to be able to help. Pm only sorry I am not able to make the engine run.” His studious courtesy seemed to pique her to judge by the look she gave him, and she made no reply. He turned to the Puffing Billy, and even as he turned, Blinks, with a last vicious pull, suc- ceeded in untying the knot in the painter. Some freak of the current caught the Puffing Billy and swung her off. Blinks was so delighted that he dropped the rope to bark deliriously, and a yard of water opened between the boats. Burchard made a desperate lunge, missed, and hung precariously over the rail of the Chirkopin till Mollie seized one waving leg and restored his equi- librium. Meantime the Puffing Billy sidled coquettishly away. “ Got an oar? ” cried Burchard. “No,” said Mollie. Burchard looked across at the depart- ing launch. He had been taking solace of his pipe these last few months, and his heart and lungs were not in the best shape. 3 “1 might swim for it,” he said doubt- fully. ““ Indeed you won’t,” cried Mollie. Burchard looked at her straight through his glasses, and she repented of her sudden vehemence. Once more Bur- chard turned his eyes toward the Puffing Billy and then threw back his head and laughed. “ Mollie,” he cried before he thought, “this is certainly the hmit. There goes my boat with an engine in good working order and an oar in the cockpit, and here are we with an engine out of whack and nothing even to push her with.” His tone was companionable and no longer formal. Mollie noted the differ- ence. “Tt’s tragic,” she said, but her eyes belied her voice. In fact it was really a pity that Burch- ard’s hearing was so much more acute than his vision. Desperately he tried the engine once more, but with no greater suecess than had attended his former efforts. ? “T think we’re going aground on the Island bar,” said Mollie presently, and Burchard rose to take a look. “Can't be helped,” he said. “If my 325 boat grounds there, too, I can wade to her,” and he returned to the machinery. Five minutes later the Chinkopin took eround gently, well out toward the end of the bar. , This is a long sand-spit formed by the current as it swings round the south side oi the island. Between the stranded boat and the island proper lay a hundred feet of shallow water, while on the other side the main channel, forty yards wide and forty feet deep, separated them from the southern shore. | Hard aground and _ helpless, they watched the Puffing Billy swing, broad- side to the current, through the channel and bob away down river. So with their last hope extinguished they faced the em- barrassment of each other’s society till such time as succor should appear. This might very well be hours, for in early June the season is not fairly open, and boats on the upper river are few and far between. Burchard continued to monkey with the engine, and presently Molle burst out laughing, Burchard turned to her. *“ T was thinking of Eddie Rolson walk- ing home from the upper bridge,” she ex- plained. “It'll be good for what ails him, but he won’t think so. I can’t say I admire fat men.” Burchard dropped the wrench into the greasy bilge water under the engine and turned to stare at her for an instant. As near as he could tell, however, she was looking past him in the direction of the upper bridge, where at any moment the fat Mr. Rolson might be expected to ap- pear. | He rescued the wrench in silence and continued his efforts on the engine. “Tf Eddie will only see us and recog- nize us,” cried Molhe gleefully, “ he’ll be perfectly wild.” Burchard paused again and appeared to consider this remark in all its bearings. Then he returned in silence to the engine. During the next twenty minutes he as- certained beyond the shadow of a doubt that there was nothing whatever the matter with the machine. And still she would not run. Ultimately he gave over his tinkering and stood up, oil dripping from his fingers. “"'There’s a cake of soap in that left- hand locker,” said Mollie. “I wouldn’t Comichoo