“It’s a mighty poor launch that won’t make six miles,” muttered Dick as he swung the boat’s head farther toward the middle of the river. “Dick, you’re stubborn to-day,” sighed Chub. “I refuse to argue with you any longer. I will only remark in closing that this here boat is not making any six miles per.” “And I say she is,” answered Dick warmly. “If she isn’t I’ll--” The chugging of the engine stopped, there was an expiring wheeze from somewhere and the launch rocked silently and lazily on the water. CHAPTER XI THE LAUNCH IS CHRISTENED Dick turned to Roy in dismay. Chub, stifling a chuckle, looked over toward the nearest shore. “If she was going six miles,” he said, “things on shore would move by a heap faster. I don’t believe she’s doing better than four.” “She’s stopped, you blamed lunatic!” cried Dick wildly. Chub stared in surprise. “Stopped, has she? Why, I hadn’t noticed it! How can you tell?” “Cut it out, Chub,” said Roy. Dick glared at him a moment and then turned with dark and somber looks toward the engine. “Where’s the handle?” he asked. “You put it in the drawer,” answered Roy. Their troubles began again. Dick turned and Roy turned and Chub turned, and all the time the launch, having gradually swung her nose down-stream was floating gently back toward Silver Cove. They had accomplished fully three fourths of the distance between the Cove and Fox Island when the engine stopped, but it seemed now that they would soon have the trip to make over again. It was very hot with scarcely any breeze rippling the water, and it was well on toward dinner-time. Chub yielded the wheel to Dick and sat down to get his breath and wipe the perspiration from his face. “Where’s the directions?” asked Roy. Search failed to reveal them. “It’s just as well,” grunted Dick. “They don’t tell you anything anyhow. Turn the rudder, Roy, and keep her off that sand-bank.” “I tell you what we can do,” said Chub as Dick stopped to rest. “Roy and I can get in the canoe and tow her and you can stay in here and steer.” “It’ll be an all day’s job,” said Roy dispiritedly. “Why not tow her to that landing over there and leave her until we can get some one to fix her up right?” “You fellows get in the canoe and go on to the island,” said Dick. “I’m going to stay here and make her go. She went once and she can do it again; and she’s got to,” he added doggedly. “Don’t give up the ship,” cried Chub cheerfully. “We’ll stand by you, Captain. Let me have another go at her.” He seized the handle and was slipping it into the wheel when there was a hail from near by and they looked across the water to where a small cat-boat was bobbing slowly toward them. The boat contained a man in the stern, but who he was they couldn’t make out because of the noonday glare on the surface of the water. “Hello!” called Dick. “Anything wrong?” was the query.