"We don't run by gasoline," said the captain, "and I'm afraid
steam wouldn't do you any good."

"Perhaps you might give us a tow as far as Rome."

"Perhaps we might and then--"

"What's the trouble?" Fred looked up quickly as he saw a man
about fifty years of age approaching the rail and standing near
the captain of the yacht. He wore a yachting cap and it was plain
to the perplexed boy that he either was the owner of the
beautiful boat or one whose word counted for much.

"We have had our troubles," explained Fred once more. "A gang of
tramps forced their way on board our boat and they have just left
us. Our gasoline is out and I was asking the captain if he would
be willing to give us a tow as far as Rome."

"Of course he will," said the man heartily. "Have you got a
painter long enough?"

"I'm afraid not," replied Fred.

"Then we'll toss you a rope."

The captain at once responded to the word of the man who had been
speaking to Fred and in a brief time a rope was thrown on board
the little motor-boat.

"Are you all ready?" called the man from the deck.