So it was agreed. They made an early start the next morning and in the afternoon found themselves cruising around at the extreme southern end of the lake. There the body of water narrowed in one place because of an island close to shore. It was a spot seldom visited, and there were no camps in that vicinity.
“Let’s take a look around the other side of that island,” suggested Jerry, when his companions proposed going home. “There might be a dozen schooners there.”
The Dartaway was headed through the narrow channel. Jerry, who was steering, was proceeding slowly, as he was in unfamiliar waters, and the channel seemed rather shallow.
Suddenly, as the motor boat emerged from the strait, the three boys could hardly help refrain from uttering an exclamation. There, moored to the shore, was the Bluebird.
“We’ve found her!” whispered Bob excitedly.
“Hush!” cautioned Jerry. “Pretend to be fishing while I work the boat nearer. Don’t look at the schooner. They may be watching us.”
With swiftly beating hearts the boys listened to the throb of the propeller that brought them nearer and nearer to the Bluebird.