“At nine o’clock that night I was in my skiff, rowing off to where my power-boat laid in deep water back of the bar.  When I reached her I made the skiff fast astern, lit a lantern, which I put in a locker under a thwart, and set still in the pitch-dark, smoking and waiting.

“’Twas a long, wearisome wait.  There was a no’thwest wind coming up, and the waves were running pretty choppy on the bar.  All I could think of was that gasoline.  Was there enough in the pipes and the feed cup on that launch to carry her out to where I was?  Or was there too much, and would she make the yacht, after all?

“It got to be eleven o’clock.  Tide was full at twelve.  I was a pretty good candidate for the crazy house by this time.  I’d listened till my ear-drums felt slack, like they needed reefing.  And then at last I heard her coming—­chuff-chuff!  Chuff-chuff!  Chuff-chuff!

“And how she did come!  She walked up abreast of me, went past me, a hundred yards or so off.  Thinks I:  ’It’s all up.  He’s going to make it.’

“And then, all at once, the ‘chuff-chuff-ing’ stopped.  Started up and stopped again.  I gave a hurrah, in my mind, pulled the skiff up alongside and jumped into her, taking the lantern with me, under my coat.  Then I set the light between my feet, picked up the oars and started rowing.

“I rowed quiet as I could, but he heard me ’fore I got to him.  I heard a scrambling noise off ahead, and then a shaky voice hollers:  ‘Hello! who’s that?’

“‘It’s me,’ says I, rowing harder’n ever.  ’Who are you?  What’s the row?’

“There was more scrambling and a slam, like a door shutting.  In another two minutes I was alongside the launch and held up my lantern.  Allie was there, fussing with his engine.  And he was all alone.

“Alone he was, I say, fur’s a body could see, but he was mighty shaky and frightened.  Also, ’side of him, on the cushions, was a girl’s jacket, and I thought I’d seen that jacket afore.

“‘Hello!’ says I.  ’Is that you, Mr. Davidson?  Thought you’d gone to Boston?’

“‘Changed my mind,’ he says.  ‘Got any gasoline?’

“‘What you doing off here this time of night?’ I says.

“‘Going out to my—­’ He stopped.  I s’pose the truth choked him.  ‘I was going to Provincetown,’ he went on.  ‘Got any gasoline?’

“’What in the nation you starting to Provincetown in the middle of the night for?’ I asks, innocent as could be.

“’Oh, thunder!  I had business there, that’s all.  Got any gasoline?’

“I made my skiff’s painter fast to a cleat on the launch and climbed aboard.  ‘Gasoline?’ says I.  ’Gasoline?  Why, yes; I’ve got some gasoline over on my power-boat out yonder.  Has yours give out?  I should think you’d filled your tank ’fore you left home on such a trip as Provincetown.  Maybe the pipe’s plugged or something.  Have you looked?’ And I caught hold of the handle of the cabin-door.