Toby was not mistaken, for presently the Turnover was close enough to the disabled white launch for him to identify one of her two passengers as Arnold Deering. Who the other boy was Toby didn’t know, nor did he much care. He slipped the clutch into neutral and let the Turnover run down alongside the Frolic. As he did so he vastly enjoyed the expression of surprise and annoyance that came into Arnold’s face when the latter recognized him.

“Hello,” said Toby as the boats bobbed side by side. “Want some more gasoline?”

“Hello,” answered Arnold gruffly. “This silly engine’s out of whack. We can’t start her. If you’ll give us a tow I’ll pay you for it.”

Toby considered a moment, or appeared to. Then, as the Turnover was floating past, he threw in the clutch again and circled around to the other side. At last: “I don’t know about towing,” he said doubtfully. “The Frolic’s pretty heavy for us, I guess. I might send some one out to you when I get in.”

Phebe uttered a low-voiced protest. “Don’t be horrid, Toby,” she said. “Of course we can tow them.”

But the boys in the white launch didn’t hear that, and Arnold looked dismayed. “But, look here, whatever-your-name-is——”

“Well, you said it was Red-head this morning,” replied Toby carelessly.

Arnold flushed. “We’ve been here since half-past two, and we want to get home. I’ve a rope here, and if you’ll tow us in I’ll give you a dollar.”

The second occupant of the Frolic, an older and bigger boy with dark hair and eyes and a somewhat sulky expression, chimed in impatiently. “We’ll give him two dollars. I’ll pay half. I’ve got to get back by five o’clock, Arn.”

“All right then, two,” amended Arnold anxiously. “Get that half-inch rope out of the stern locker, Frank, will you?”

“Oh, I’d do it for a dollar,” said Toby, “or I might do it for nothing at all. It isn’t that.” He ruminated again and again chugged the Turnover into position. “Tell you what I will do,” he continued then. “I’ll come aboard and see if I can start her for you.”

“What’s the good of that?” demanded Frank. “We’ve been trying for nearly two hours. And we want to get in.”

“Maybe I might think of something you haven’t,” answered Toby.

“All right, come ahead,” said Arnold.

Toby slid the Turnover close to the other launch and shut off the engine. “You hold her, Phebe,” he instructed. Then: “This is my sister, Phebe,” he added by way of introduction. “Phebe, this is Arnold Deering. You remember I spoke of him this noon,” he added innocently.

Arnold colored as he murmured a response and then introduced Frank Lamson. Phebe nodded shyly and Toby clambered aboard the Frolic. The two boys then followed him as he tested the engine by throwing the spark on and turning the wheel a few times. There was no response from the cylinders and Toby disconnected the wires from the spark-plugs and grounded them against the engine one at a time. He got sparks from three of the four, and, after he had cleaned the fourth plug, from all of them. An examination of the carbureter followed leisurely, Toby whistling softly all the time. Presently he followed the gasoline supply pipe back from engine to tank, having to raise the locker covers to do so, and at last, snapping the door of the forward locker shut again, he faced Arnold with a satisfied nod.

“Got it,” he said.

“Really? What was the trouble?” asked the Frolic’s skipper.

“Nothing much. I can fix it in a minute.”

“Go ahead, then,” said Frank Lamson, with a scowl. “We’re in a hurry, I tell you.”

Toby observed him ruminatively for a moment, and then turned his gaze to Arnold. “I’m still whistling, you see,” he said, and to prove it went on with his tune.

“Don’t be a fool,” begged Arnold. “If you can fix it——”

“Won’t take me a minute—after I get started,” was the untroubled reply. Toby reached up and took off his hat. “You might just take another look at my hair,” he continued pleasantly. “When the sun isn’t on it’s quite a bit darker, I think.”

“Toby!” exclaimed Phebe, in a shocked voice.

Arnold flushed and stammered. “What’s that got to do with it?” he asked. Frank Lamson looked bewildered.

“Well,” said Toby, “I thought maybe you’d like to see if you weren’t mistaken about the color of my hair.”

Arnold looked at Frank and at Phebe, and finally at Toby’s gently smiling countenance and swallowed hard. Finally: “Well, it isn’t as red as I thought it was,” he muttered. “I suppose the sun being on it——”

“Sure! But just you take another look; take a good hard one now. Sort of brown, isn’t it?”

Arnold hesitated, cast a fleeting glance at the exposed hair, and grinned in a sickly way. “I guess that’s so,” he allowed. “I—I’d say it was quite brown.”

“Not the least bit red, eh?”

Arnold shook his head: “Not a bit.”

“And, seeing you were mistaken this morning, maybe you’d like to sort of apologize,” suggested Toby. Phebe was observing Arnold with an expression that seemed to convey to him an apology for her brother’s conduct, and perhaps her look helped him over his embarrassment. At all events, when Frank Lamson, puzzled and resentful, broke in with: “What’s the fuss about? Who cares whether his hair’s brown or——” Arnold interrupted quickly.

“Whoa, Frank! This chap’s right.” He laughed good humoredly. “I take it back, Tucker, and apologize. You’re all right! And—and you can stop whistling!”

Toby smiled sunnily and clapped his hat on his head. “Now we’ll start her,” he said. He went back to the forward locker in which the gasoline tank was located, thrust in a hand, withdrew it, closed the door again and returned to the engine. “Now try her,” he said.

Arnold did so and the engine woke promptly to life.

“What was it?” he demanded, surprise and admiration struggling for supremacy in his face.

Toby laughed. “I’ll tell you so it won’t be likely to happen again,” he replied. “You’ve got a globe cock on your gasoline supply pipe where it leaves the tank. Usually that shut-off is down here by the engine, and I don’t know why they put it there. But they did, and when you pulled your anchor out of your bow locker you managed to get your cable fouled with the cock and turned it almost square off. You weren’t getting any gasoline, Deering.”

“But I tried the carbureter twice and it flooded!”

“Of course it did, because there was gasoline in the pipe. The cock wasn’t quite closed, and enough kept running into the pipe to show in the carbureter, but not to explode in the cylinders. If I were you I’d take a piece of zinc and turn it over that cock; make a sort of hood of it, you know, so your line won’t get twisted in it.”

“I didn’t know there was any shut-off there,” grumbled Frank Lamson, “or I’d have looked at it.”

“There’s always one somewhere on the pipe,” replied Toby dryly. “Well, you’re all right now, I guess, eh?”

“Yes, thanks,” said Arnold gratefully. “And, by the way, Tucker——” He pulled a dollar bill from his coin purse and held it out with a smile. “I guess I’ll pay my debt.”

Toby gravely fished up a penny and the transfer was made.

“I don’t know,” continued Arnold doubtfully, “but what I’d ought to pay for all that gas.” He made a motion toward his pocket again, but Toby waved the idea aside.

“No, we settled that,” he said. “I don’t mind paying half. It was worth it!”

Arnold laughed. Then: “But, hold on! How about this job?” he exclaimed. “Better let me pay you something for it. I’d rather.”

“Oh, shucks, that’s all right. We don’t charge for helping friends out of trouble around here,” answered Toby as he climbed back to the Turnover. “So long!”

“Well, I’m awfully much obliged,” responded Arnold, and his thanks seemed to include Phebe as well. “Good-by.” He took off his cap, something which his companion neglected to do, and waved a farewell as the Turnover moved away. Frank Lamson only nodded, but, as the Turnover circled around toward the harbor, he called across the water: “Say, we’ll race you back!”

But Toby shook his head. “I’m not in racing trim today,” he called back. “Some other time!”

The Frolic passed them presently, doing a good ten miles against the turning tide, and Arnold, standing at the wheel in the bow, waved once more.

“You ought to have been ashamed, Toby,” said his sister severely, “to act like that!”

“Act like what?” inquired the boy innocently.

“You know perfectly well.”

“Oh, that! Why, you see, sis, I knew he’d made a mistake, and I knew he’d want to—to correct it. So I just gave him a chance.”

“But to refuse to fix the engine until he’d apologized!”

“I didn’t refuse. I’d have fixed it if he hadn’t. That was just a bluff—and it worked!” Toby chuckled. “What did you think of him?”

“I thought he was very—very nice,” replied Phebe, after a moment.

“He isn’t so bad, I guess,” agreed Toby carelessly. “Some one ought to show him how to run that boat, though.”

“And he is very good looking, too,” added Phebe.

Toby grinned. “You wait till you see me with my hair slicked down flat with vaseline, sis!”

“Vaseline! The idea! His hair is just naturally shiny.”

“Must be. Anyway, you’ve taken a shine to it! Wonder where he picked up that Lantern chap?”

“Lamson, it was.”

“Lamson, then. He’s a surly beggar.” Toby frowned. “He came mighty near getting into trouble, too. He almost said my hair was red. If Deering hadn’t stopped him just when he did——”

“Toby, you’re too silly for words about the color of your hair. You know very well that it is—well, reddish, and I don’t see why you don’t make up your mind to it.”

“You’ve got a pimple on the end of your nose, but——”

“Toby! I haven’t!” Phebe investigated agitatedly. “It’s just the tiniest bit of a one, then. Does it show much?”

“Well, you couldn’t see it across the harbor,” was the unfeeling reply. “Anyhow, it’s there, and I’ll bet you wouldn’t want folks to tell you about it. Well, it’s like that with my hair, sis. I know it’s sort of reddish—in the sunlight, maybe—but I don’t care to have fellows say so. When they do they either have to fight or apologize.”

“I don’t see how fighting proves anything,” objected Phebe.

“It doesn’t prove anything, no, but it sort of makes you forget the insult! Here we are. Take the wheel and I’ll fend her off. I hope there’s something good for supper!”