A LONELY NIGHT
"Can't you make it work?" asked Hazel, when Sylvia had spent some time
over the self-starter.
"I can't," was the answer, and Sylvia tried to keep from her voice any
trace of anxiety or peevishness. But really she was tired and nervous.
"Let me try," suggested Alice, who was quite strong. "If I can't make
the starter work I can turn the flywheel over by hand."
The self-starter operated on a storage battery, something like the
mechanism of an automobile, but not as easily. But while the starter
itself whirred around, the gears meshing in those of the flywheel with
which it was connected by a jack shaft, there was no response in the
motor itself.
"There doesn't seem to be a spark," said Sylvia, as she watched the
effect of Alice's operations.
"Yes, there's a spark all right," declared Rose, who had her eyes on
one of the patent spark plugs that had an upper chamber in which an
auxiliary jump spark could be seen leaping from one platinum point to
the other. "The spark is there, but it doesn't seem to fire the charge
in the cylinder. Maybe there's no gasoline."
"Oh, yes, there is. I tested the tank only a few minutes ago," Sylvia
said.
"Perhaps it's the carburetor," suggested Hazel, after a pause.
"Don't you dare say that!" cried Rose. "Once you start to change that
adjustment it's all up with us. We'll be here for the night."
"Don't!" begged Baby, with an apprehensive glance at the now
fast-darkening woods. They were on a lonely part of Indian Point.
"Oh, we'll get off somehow," Sylvia declared. "I wonder if there are
any men about on whom we could call for help. I hate to think of trying
to start the motor by hand."
"And that's what we'll have to do, soon," declared Alice. "The storage
battery is almost run down."
This was only too true, since they had used much of the energy in
trying to make the auxiliary motor of the self-starter do its work. And
without the main motor running no more electricity would be available
to recharge the storage cells.
"Well, here goes for a little gymnasium work," Alice said, rolling up
her sleeves.
"I'll see if there's a man, or, perhaps, some campers about,"
volunteered Sylvia, "then I'll come back and take my share."
Again and again Alice, in the rather cramped quarters in which the
motor was housed, tried to start it. But though she could disconnect
the self-starter gears, and turn over the flywheel, there was no
answering explosion even then.
"It's the ignition," declared Sylvia, who came back in the gathering
twilight to report that she could find no one to help in the
comparatively short distance she went away from the others.
"Maybe it will start on the batteries," suggested Hazel.
"We've tried that," declared Alice.
"Well, try again," urged Sylvia. "We must do something. This is a
terribly lonesome place, and I, for one, don't want to have to stay
here all night!"
"I should say not, most decidedly!" exclaimed Hazel. "I--I'll _swim_
back before I'll do that."
"Well, we certainly won't walk," said Rose, with determination. "We
_could_ manage to sleep aboard the _Clytie_!" she went on. "We could
take a stone for an anchor, and shove the boat out in the lake, away
from the shore."
"You seem to have it all thought out," commented Hazel. "Why away from
the shore?"
"Then no--er--no snakes could crawl aboard!"
"Don't!" begged Alice, looking up with grimy face and hands from her
labor over the motor. She wore gloves, but they did not much protect
her, as they were splitting at the seams.
"Oh, we'll get off some time," Sylvia said. "Here, let me have a try,
Alice."
She took her place at the wheel and worked hard and faithfully. But
though the motor coughed, sneezed and gave other evidences of senile
decay, there was no healthy "wuff!" of a genuine explosion.
"There! That sounded like something!" cried Rose, suddenly, following a
continued whirling about of the flywheel on the part of Sylvia.
"What sounded like something?" demanded Hazel.
"As if one of the cylinders had voted to go to work. Let me relieve
you, Sylvia."
"No, if there's a hopeful sign, the best thing to do is to keep on
before the cylinder gets cold."
Again she worked at the motor, and then, to the joy of the girls, it
suddenly started off with a succession of heavy throbs as though it
had intended to do so all the while, but had waited until sufficiently
coaxed.
"There!" cried Sylvia, in relieved tones as she stretched out on a
cushioned locker to ease the pain in her back. "Let her run now until
she gets good and warm before throwing in the clutch."
"What was the matter?" asked Rose.
"Don't ask me, my dear. I think it was the timer, but I don't want to
make any rash assertions for fear some other part of the mechanism will
feel slighted and refuse to work until its claims have been recognised.
So don't ask me."
"But it's working now!" Rose cried. "We'll get back in time for----"
"The dance!" finished Alice. "Shall I throw in the clutch now, Sylvia?"
"Yes, we'll take a chance."
There was a grinding, groaning and squealing sound as the clutch
slipped into place. The water under the stern of the boat boiled and
bubbled.
The _Clytie_ started forward and then suddenly brought up with a jerk
that jarred the girls.
"Oh!" screamed Hazel.
"What is it?" demanded Rose.
"It's just as well to loosen the mooring rope when you want to start,"
said Alice, dryly. "It's rather too much to ask a boat of this size to
pull up a big tree by the roots," and she pointed to where the rope
from the ring bolt of the forward deck was still tied to a tree on
shore.
"I'll loosen it," offered Sylvia, and the motor was thrown out of gear
to enable her to do this. Then, once more they started off, and steered
the boat out around the head of Indian Point, for they had gone ashore
on the side nearest to Sucker Brook Bay.
"I do hope it runs all right the rest of the way home," murmured Alice.
"Hush! Don't say a word! Knock wood!" Hazel advised her, in a mocking
whisper.
It was now dark enough to call for the lighting of the lamps on the
craft, and the signal ones, fore and aft, and the red and green ones on
either side were set aglow.
"But we won't light the cabin ones yet," Sylvia decided.
"Why not?" demanded Alice. "I want to get some of the grime off my
hands. Otherwise I'll have to wear gloves at the dance, and I despise
them on a warm night."
"We won't light the lights in the cabin until the storage battery has
had a chance to pick up some current," Sylvia said. "You can just as
well wash in the dark, and we may need current for the self-starter
before we get home."
"I certainly hope not!" cried Hazel. "We've had trouble enough for one
day. We won't get in until after dinner now, and those waiters are so
fussy about serving anything after hours."
"Oh, well, we can tip them," said Sylvia. "I'm afraid we are going to
be late, but we are running as fast as we dare in these waters. I don't
know them at all."
They had reached a section of the lake around from Indian Point, and
were heading down between the shore and Osprey Island when the motor
suddenly ceased humming and throbbing.
"There!" cried Sylvia, tragically.
"Don't say I told you so," begged Alice.
"Head for shore, quick!" cried Rose to Hazel, who was steering.
"Why?" asked the latter.
"Because we don't want to drift all over the lake, and we have momentum
enough to land now. Quick! Head for shore!"
Hazel did so, and the _Clytie_ just managed to poke her nose gently
against the bank in the fast-gathering darkness. Alice and Sylvia were
working frantically to start the motor again, but it would not respond.
"Well, what are we going to do?" asked Sylvia, when they had swung
broadside to the bank. "It seems we can't get going again."
"Oh, must we stay here?" demanded Rose, with a glance at the dark and
silent woods, while the lonely night settled down all about them.