The Girl and The Bill Part 14

"Would he rent it?"

"No. But he lets us run it once in a while. We keep an eye on it for him."

Orme took out his watch. "It's almost twelve," he said. "You'll be relieved in a few moments. Do you suppose I could persuade you to take me out to the other boat?"

The life-saver hesitated. "I'd like to," he said. "But my study----"

"There'll be some sport, if we get within reach of the man out there,"

Orme put in.

"Well--I'll do it--though the chances are that they will make their repairs and be off again before we come within a mile."

"I'm much obliged to you," said Orme. "If you would let me make it right----"

"For taking you out in another man's boat? No, sir."

"I know. Well--my name is Orme, not Holmes."

"And mine," grinned the life-saver, "is Porter."

A man turned in from the drive, and sauntered toward them.

"There's my relief," said Porter. "h.e.l.lo, Kelmsley."

"h.e.l.lo," replied the newcomer.

"Just wait till I punch the clock," said Porter to Orme.

"Punch the clock? Oh, I see; the government times you."

"Yes."

Porter went into the station for a moment; then, returning, he exchanged a few words with the relief and led Orme down to the breakwater. The launch which was moored there proved to be a st.u.r.dy boat, built for strength rather than for speed.

Orme cast off while Porter removed the tarpaulin from the motor and made ready to turn the wheel over.

"Is the policeman still busy with the j.a.p?" Orme questioned suddenly.

"Yes."

"He won't get anything out of him," said Orme--"except fairy-stories."

Porter started the motor and stepped forward to the steering-wheel.

Slowly the launch pushed out into the open lake, and the lights of the sh.o.r.e receded.

No sound had come from the disabled boat since its motor stopped.

Doubtless it was too far off for the noise of repairs to be heard on the sh.o.r.e. Orme peered over the dark surface of the water, but he could see nothing except the lights of a distant steamer.

"I know why he went out so far," remarked Porter. "He is running without lights."

"That in itself is suspicious, isn't it?" Orme asked.

"Why, yes, I suppose so--though people aren't always as careful as they might be. Our own lights aren't lighted, you see."

"Have you any clue at all as to where she is?"

"Only from the direction the sounds came from just before the explosions stopped. She had headway enough to slide some distance after that, and I'm allowing for it--and for the currents. With the lake as it is, she would be carried in a little."

For nearly half an hour they continued straight out toward mid-lake. Orme noticed that there was a slight swell. The lights of Evanston were now mere twinkling distant points, far away over the dark void of the waters.

Porter shut off the power. "We must be pretty near her," he said.

They listened intently.

"Perhaps I steered too far south," said Porter at last.

He threw on the power, and sent the boat northward in slow, wide circles.

The distant steams.h.i.+p had made progress toward the northeast--bound, perhaps, for Muskegon, or some other port on the Michigan sh.o.r.e. She was a pa.s.senger steamer, apparently, for lines of portholes and deck-windows were marked by dots of light. There was no other sign of human presence to be seen on the lake, and Orme's glance expectantly wandered to her lights now and then.

At last, while he was looking at it, after a fruitless search of the darkness, he was startled by a strange phenomenon. The lights of the steamer suddenly disappeared. An instant later they shone out again.

With an exclamation, Orme seized the steering-wheel and swung it over to the right.

"There she is," he cried, and then: "Excuse me for taking the wheel that way, but I was afraid I'd lose her."

"I don't see her," said Porter.

"No; but something dark cut off the lights of that steamer. Hold her so."

He let go the wheel and peered ahead.

Presently they both saw a spot of blacker blackness in the night. Porter set the motor at half-speed.

"Have you got a bull's-eye lantern?" asked Orme in an undertone.

"Yes, in that locker."

Orme stooped and lighted the lantern in the shelter of the locker.

"Now run up alongside," he said, "and ask if they need help."

The outline of the disabled boat now grew more distinct. Porter swung around toward it and called:

"Need help?"

After a moment's wait, a voice replied:

"Yes. You tow me to Chicago. I pay you."