“Will you boys come in a little while and rest?” asked the girls’ mother. “I’m sure I can’t begin to thank you for what you did. You saved the children’s lives.”
“I’m sure we didn’t do any more than any one would have done under the circumstances,” said Jerry, who, like most boys hated to have a fuss made over him or what he did. “I’m afraid we haven’t time.”
“It’s getting late, I guess we’d better be going,” added Ned, who likewise was not fond of praise, and so, bidding the girls and their mother good-bye the boys started away.
The search light, which was set going as soon as it was dark, gave a brilliant path of illumination up the center of the stream, though on either side was gloom. Suddenly the gas lamp, which burned in the bow, went out.
“There, I meant to fill the carbide tank to-day,” said Ned, “but I forgot all about it.”
“Never mind, we can go along just as well in the dark,” said Jerry. “We have the side lights going and we’re not liable to meet any other boats. Better go a little slower, though.”
Ned, accordingly slowed down, and, with scarcely a sound, so well was the engine muffled and so smoothly did it work, the Dartaway glided along. Ned steered over toward the left bank, to be out of the way of any boats that might be on the river.
It was getting quite damp, and a fog was obscuring the view.
“It’s a good thing there are not many motor boats on the river, or we might run into one, or be run into,” said Ned. “I wonder if the police boat is in commission yet.”
“I heard she’d be here next week for good,” spoke Bob.