“Keep quiet, you lunk-head!” exclaimed Bill in a hoarse whisper. “Who’s talking too much now? Do you want them to—” and then, fearing that he might say too much Bill fairly dragged Noddy out of the door with him.
For a few moments the boys stood in silence. They could hear Noddy and Bill walking down the path that led to the river, their feet crunching the gravel.
“I wonder how they came here,” said Bob.
“Let’s watch ’em and see how they leave,” said Jerry. “We’ll get a line on ’em then.”
Going to the door of the pavilion they saw Noddy and Bill get in a motor boat that was tied at the edge of the float. It was a little craft, hardly more than a rowboat with a small “kicker” gas engine in it. Noddy got in the bow to steer, and Bill cranked up. After a number of loud wheezes and chugs the boat started down the river.
“Little one cylindered affair,” said Bob in contemptuous tones.
“Never mind, they may make trouble enough for us with it, even if it has only one cylinder,” put in Jerry. “It don’t move very fast, to be sure,” as he watched the craft glide slowly down the stream, “but you can bet Noddy has some object in having such a poor boat when he could afford a better one. He’s up to some game, I haven’t the least doubt. I wish I could get on to it.”
“Do you think he has any plan for making trouble for us?” asked Ned.
“Judging from what we overheard a little while ago, I would say he has,” spoke Jerry.