friends prepared to start off again. Walter gave the flywheel a few
vigorous turns, but there was only a sort of apologetic sigh from
the motor.

"Prime it a bit," suggested Ed.

With gasoline from a small oil can, Walter injected some of the
fluid into the cylinder through the pet cock.

"Now for it!" he exclaimed. "Cross your fingers everybody," and
once more he did the street-piano act, as Ed termed it. The engine
only sighed gently.

Walter gave a quick glance over his shoulder toward the bow.

"Is that forward switch in?" he asked a bit sharply.

"Oh!" exclaimed Cora, "I accidentally pulled it out when I removed
the bulkhead to look at the battery connections. There," she added
after a quick motion, "it's in, Walter."

"Now for it! Hold your breaths," ordered the engineer. There was a
sudden motion to the wheel, a whizzing buzz, a churning of the water
under the stern and the boat moved away.

"We'll have to have a regular schedule--gasoline, switch,
ground-wire, pet-cocks primed--oil cups up, and all that sort of
thing," murmured Cora as they glided swiftly onward. "I'll print it
on a card and hang it near the engine."