Waiting aboard the sailing craft, Paxton heard the distant sound of the motor getting into action. Then the rope stretched out, and the schooner began moving slowly through the water. As it gathered headway, Paxton went to the wheel and kept her on the course, taking sight by means of a lantern he had directed Bill Berry to place on the stern of the motor craft. In ten minutes the schooner was well out on the lake, which at that late hour, or rather early one, for it was about three o’clock in the morning, was deserted.
Leaning against the wheel Paxton filled his pipe with tobacco and applied a match. It was drawing good, and he was beginning to feel more comfortable in spite of the cold and the hard work he had done that night, when one of the sleepers stirred.
“I guess we’ll have a scene now,” muttered Paxton, as he lashed the wheel to keep the schooner on a straight course down the lake, in which direction the motor boat was towing it. A second later Bob sat up.
“Hello!” he exclaimed. “What’s up. I say, Ned, wake up! We’re adrift!”
“What’s that?” cried Ned, rubbing his eyes, and jumping to his feet. “Adrift? Why so we are. We’re out in the middle of the lake.”
It was getting a little lighter and the mist was lifting somewhat.
“In the middle of the lake?” repeated Bob in bewilderment as he too got on his feet and stood beside Ned. “Why I didn’t know there was current enough in the lake to carry us this far out.”
“There isn’t!” exclaimed Ned. “There’s something wrong here. Hark! Isn’t that a motor boat?”
The faint throb of the craft towing the schooner could be heard.
“It is, sure enough,” came from Bob. “Can’t be Jerry back already.”