tion was made, that he had a hot, "fat one." The compression seemed all right and the supply pipe from the gasoline tank was in perfect order. Still the motor would not go. No explosion resulted when he turned the fly-wheel over, not even when he primed the cylinder by putting a little gasoline in through the cocks on the cylinder heads.
"That's funny," he remarked to himself as he rested from his labors and contemplated the "dead" motor. "First time it has gone back on me." The boat was drifting down the lake, and, at the sound of another motor craft approaching, Tom looked up. He saw the Red Streak, containing Andy Foger and his cronies. They had observed the young inventor's plight.
"Want a tow?" sneered Andy.
"What'll you take for your second-hand boat that won't run?" asked Pete Bailey.
"Better get out of the way or you might be run down," added Sam Snedecker.
Tom was too angry and chagrined to reply, and the Red Streak swept on.
"I'll make her go, if it takes all night!" declared Tom energetically. Once more he tried to start the motor. It coughed and sighed, as if in protest, but would not explode. Then Tom cried: "The spark plug! That's where the trouble is, I'll wager. Why didn't I think of it before?"
