"Give me the sounding stick out of that locker, Hiram." Armed with the stick, Merritt rapidly unscrewed the cap of the fuel tank and plunged the sounder into it.
"There's quite a lot of gasoline in there yet," he exclaimed, with sparkling eyes, as he withdrew and felt the wet end of the instrument.
The carburetor was rapidly adjusted.

The rough tossing about the Flying Fish had received had jammed the needle valve, but that was all.
Presently all was in readiness to get under way once more with the little boat's proper motive power.

The "jury rig" was speedily dismantled Merritt swung the flywheel over two or three times, and a welcome "chug, chug!" responded.
"Hurray! she's working," cried Hiram.
"As well as ever," responded Merritt.

"Now for the shore.

By the way," he broke off in a dismayed tone, "where is the shore ?" "I know now," rejoined Tubby in a confident tone.