The Argosy, September 1915 — page 15: what you’re looking at

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

~ ONE-CYLINDER SAM. one-cylinder pest. She peered into the oil-cups; she smeared her gloves on the ° cam that operated the timing-lever ; she fussed with the tickler on the car- bureter ; she did a score of other things, while her audience watched in silence. After she got through with the engine she turned her attention to the bat- teries, tightening a wire connection here and there. “Now, where’s your _ socket- wrench?” she demanded. ‘Socket - wrench?” repeated the boatman. “ That’s a new one on me. I don’t remember—’ “Haven't you ever taken out the spark-plug?”’ “Oh, you mean that funny thing that screws it out. Sure! I’ve got one somewhere.” He fumbled under a seat and drew out a box that contained a disorderly array of tools. Miss.Chalmers dived a daintily gloved hand into it and brought forth what she sought. “Tf you want me to do that—” He did not finish the sentence, be- cause she already had the spark-plug in her hand and was holding the points close to the light. ‘Dirty, of course,” she commented diseustedly. “Have, you any sand- paper?” He found a bit after more fumbling, and watched her while she scrubbed the metal points until they were bright. Then she replaced the plug and screwed it into position with a vigorous twist of the wrench. The boatman had settled back in his place. After that she found a screw- driver and removed the cover from the float-chamber in the carbureter: A brief inspection of this mysterious compartment satisfied her. ‘““ Now spin that fly-wheel,” she said abruptly, rising from her krfees and moving aside to make room for him. The boatman spun the fly-wheel, not once, but many times. Twice the en- gine started, only to stop after a few revolutions. “It’s abominable!” exclaimed the 229 passenger. ‘“ What do you propose to do?” “ Nothing, I guess,” replied the boat- man. ‘“ You’ve done more things now than I ever knew could be done. Don’t suppose you damaged anything, do your” She glared at him, then turned her scorching glance out upon the river. “ Here comes a boat!” she said sud- denly. The boatman followed the line of her pointing finger and discerned the lights of a craft that was bearing rather closely toward them. “Do you think they will help us?” she asked. “ Might,” he admitted. “They must! I can’t stay here all night. Hail them!” He put two fingers between his lips — and sent forth a shrill whistle. “Do you call that a hail?” she ex- claimed, rising to her feet. She made a miniature megaphone of her hands and flung a vigorous “ Ahoy!” across the. water. é‘ The boat was closer now. Present- ly there was an answering voice. “Any trouble?” said the voice. The question affected the boatman like a shock of electricity. He started from his seat, leaned over the gunwale, and squinted through the gloom. ‘* Breakdown,” called Miss Chal- mers. “‘ What boat is that?” “Yacht Elizabethe Want any help?” Before Miss Chalmers could answer a voice at her ear boomed out: 7 ‘““No-o-o, thanks! All right in a minute.” She turned in amazement upon the boatman, who was now on his knees in front of the engine, his face hidderr from her. “ Why—you—you—” The jingling of a bell from across the water interrupted her. Then she heard the churning of a propeller, and the dark outline of the yacht began to move again. “ Ahoy!” screamed Miss Chalmers. CORMEDOOKS (C@)