“We only smashed one of his oars,” said Ned, as he turned the wheel back to avoid running the craft into the bank. “I just saw him in time. He wasn’t making a sound or I might have heard him. He should have shown a light.”
“Could you see who it was?” asked Bob, between bites at a chicken sandwich, for he had again attacked the lunch.
“Probably a lone fisherman after eels,” responded the steersman.
By this time the Dartaway was approaching Cresville, the lights of the town being visible.
The girls and boys from the rowboat were landed at the main dock and the motor boys started back for their own shelter.
“I wonder if we did much damage to that boat we hit,” mused Bob. “Whose was it any way?”
“I can’t tell you whose it was, but I think it was the one the girls were out in, and which floated away from us,” said Ned. “But I can tell you who was in it.”
“Who?” asked Jerry sharply.
“Bill Berry!” spoke Ned.
“Are you sure?”