Yes. The fact is, we have run out of gasolene. I told my man, Rogers,
to fill the tank and he hasn't done it."

She leaned forward to look at me.

"Hasn't done it?" she repeated. "You mean--why, this boat cannot go
without gasolene, can it?"

"Not very well; no."

"Then--then what are we going to do?"

"Anchor and wait, if I can."

"Wait! But I don't wish to wait. I wish to be taken home, at once."

"I am sorry, but I am afraid that is impossible."

I was on my way forward to where the anchor lay, in the bow. She rose
and stepped in front of me.

"Mr. Paine."

"Yes, Miss Colton."

"I tell you I do not wish you to anchor this boat."

"I am sorry but it is the only thing to do, under the circumstances."

"I do not wish it. Stop! I tell you I will not have you anchor."

"Miss Colton, we must do one of two things, either anchor or drift. And
if we drift I cannot tell you where we may be carried."

"I don't care."

"I do."

"Yes," with scornful emphasis, "I presume you do."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean--never mind what I mean."

"But, as I have explained to you, the gasolene--"

"Nonsense! Do you suppose I believe that ridiculous story?"

"Believe it?" I gazed at her uncomprehendingly. "Believe it," I
repeated. "Don't you believe it?"

"No."

"Miss Colton, do you mean that you think I am not telling you the truth?
That I am lying?"

"Well," fiercely, "and if I did, would it be so astonishing,
considering--considering the TRUTHS you have told me before?"

I made no further effort to pass her. Instead I stepped back.

"Would you mind telling me," I demanded, with deliberate sarcasm, "what
possible reason you think I might have for wishing to keep you here?"

"I shall tell you nothing. And--and I will not have you anchor this
boat."

"Is it your desire then that we drift--the Lord knows where?"

"I desire you to start that engine and take me home."

"I cannot start the engine."

"I don't believe it."

For a moment I hesitated. Then I did what was perhaps the most senseless
thing I ever did in all my life, which is saying considerable. I turned
my back on her and on the anchor, and seated myself once more in the
stern sheets. And we drifted.

I do not know how long we drifted before I regained my sanity. It must
have been a good while. When I first returned to my seat by the wheel it
was with the firm determination to allow the Comfort to drift into the
bottomless pit rather than to