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Updated: May 18, 2025
It would soon be dark, and Barlow said he would be taking chances of piling on the shore before he could see it, or getting lost in the profound black that would shut down on the water with daylight's end. Less than a mile from Cougar Bay, the Waterbug's engine gave a few premonitory gasps and died. Barlow descended to the engine room, hooked up the trouble lamp, and sought for the cause.
Nerves at terrible tension in that big, splendid body. A slight quiver seemed to run over him. Then he was erect and calmly himself again, standing in a listening attitude. "That's the Panther?" he said. "Pulling in to the Waterbug's landing. Did I startle you when I bounced up like a cougar, Stella?" he asked, with a wry smile. "I guess I was half asleep. That whistle jolted me."
Suddenly he threw out the clutch, shut down his throttle control with one hand, and yanked with the other at the cord which loosed the Waterbug's shrill whistle. Dead ahead, almost upon them, came an answering toot. "I thought I heard a gas-boat," Barlow exclaimed. "Sufferin' Jerusalem! Hi, there!" He threw his weight on the wheel, sending it hard over.
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