"That would be just like Mike. Something has gone wrong with the engine and he hasn't the first idea of what he should do to repair it; so when worn out, he has lain down and gone to sleep. We shall have the joke on Mike when we see him."
George's lips were compressed and he remained silent until half the intervening distance was passed; then he looked over his shoulder.
"Young men, the reason you don't see Mike _is because he isn't on that boat_!"
The words of George struck Alvin and Chester like "the knell of doom." They looked in each other's faces, white and silent for a brief spell; then Alvin whispered:
"And he couldn't swim a stroke," added Chester, in the same husky undertone.
They said no more, but, keeping their feet, stared at the _Deerfoot_ wallowing in the gentle sea, like a helpless wreck. A faint hope sprang up in their hearts that, after all, Mike might have been overcome by sleep and would be found curled up in the cockpit. They could not see the bottom of the compartment until quite near. Then a single searching glance told them it was empty. He might have crept under the deck forward or aft, but it was hardly possible he had done so.
George ran the _Shark_ with skill close beside the other boat. The moment it was within reach Alvin leaped across, landing on the stern, from which he bounded down into the cockpit and peered into the obscurity in front. That too was devoid of a sign of life. He and his chum were the only ones on the motor boat.
Now that their worst fears seemed to be confirmed a strange calmness came over both. Their voices were low but even, as are those of people in the presence of death.
"What do you think stopped the boat?" asked Chester.
His first action answered the question. A glance into the gasoline tank showed that it was empty of all fluid. The source of power had been used up.
"There may have been other causes, but that was enough," remarked Alvin. "I'll look into things on our way back."
His first plan was to borrow enough gasoline from George to run the _Deerfoot_ on the homeward trip, but George thought he had none to spare.
The tow-line was passed over the bow and George made it fast to a cleat on the stern deck of the _Shark_. Then he resumed his moderate speed toward Boothbay Harbor. It was not a long run and Alvin spent much of the time in inspecting the mechanism of his motor boat. To repress so far as he could his profound grief, he kept up a running commentary or explanation to Chester, who really did not require it, for he knew a good deal about motor boats. But he listened as if it were all new to him, and asked questions. His purpose was the same as his friend's: they talked about everything else in the vain effort to keep their minds from the awful theme that bowed them both with a sorrow they had never known before.