“What for?” asked Chub, haughtily. “Let her get out of our way.”
“Law requires sailing craft to give way to dories and such and steamboats to give way to sail-boats,” responded Dick, knowingly.
“Listen to the Ancient Mariner,” jeered Chub. But he pulled a lever that slowed down the engine, and so allowed the sail-boat to bob out of harm’s way. Chub had a chart spread out in front of him, and now and then he pointed out the places along the way with the manner of a discoverer, though Roy said it seemed more like a ride in a sight-seeing automobile.
“Manhattanville on our right, gentlemen. On the left historic Fort Lee.”
“What happened there?” asked Dick.
“I don’t know.”
“Then how do you know it’s historic?”
“All forts are historic,” answered Chub, loftily. “Across the river are historic Fort Washington and historic Fort George.”
“I suppose the next fort is historic Fort Cherry-tree,” muttered Dick, skeptically. “I don’t see any forts, anyhow. I’m going down again—”
“To throw more oil on that poor old engine,”
