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216 that smelly oil that she’d simply go up in a burst of flame.”

“No engine will run smoothly without plenty of oil,” grumbled Dick.

“I don’t expect it to, Dickums, but there’s such a thing as being overkind. Some morning you’ll wake up and find that poor engine floating lifelessly on a sea of cylinder oil. You’re simply drowning it!”

The morning of the twenty-first found them still some twenty miles below Ferry Hill and the Slow Poke was put at her best pace in the hope of reaching her destination by luncheon-time. And she responded nobly to the demand, nosing her way up to the boat-house landing at Ferry Hill shortly before one o’clock.