was Deschaillon and the silent Farnol Greer.
“Eet makes bad weather,” remarked the Frenchman, peering at the dark rolling Alps about the dock.
“Good thing both of you came,” shouted Madden, turning the tiller over to the men. “It's as stiff as cold molasses—how are the sick ones?”
The boy saw Deschaillon grin and twirl his pointed mustache in the faint illumination. “Zay are very numerous,” he laughed. But the Gaul had no sooner swung his weight against the wheel than his grimace vanished.
“Parbleu! Here, Greer, pull zis wheel with me!”
The two men caught the spokes and set their weight to it. Greer remained silent.
“Zis ees bad!” exclaimed Deschaillon. “Zis wheel will not go around!”
“What's the matter, do you think?” cried Leonard.
“Zee gear ees clogged, I think me.”
“Go get a lantern and some men, Hogan—anybody who isn't lifeless. We've got to do something!”
