“What now?” asked Ned. “Have you found some way of getting ashore and buying some gasoline?”
“No, but we can put up a sail,” Bob went on. “Here’s the boat hook, and the canvas cover of the engine is stuffed away in the stern.”
He scrambled aft, hauled out a bundle of canvas, and then got the boat hook. For a few seconds Ned and Jerry watched him. Then the tall lad said:
“I believe it will work at that. Bob, you’re not so worse.”
The motor boat, being heavy, did not move very fast under the small sail area the boys spread. But at least they did move, and it was better than being becalmed under a hot sun.
They sailed on for perhaps two miles when they spied another motor boat which was evidently going to pass near them.
“Hail him!” suggested Ned, and they attracted the attention of the lone skipper by toots on the electric horn. The man was a baker who made the round of the shore resorts delivering bread and pastry. He agreed, for a small sum, to tow them to Haredon and, several hours after they had expected to arrive, the boys reached the hotel where Mr. Baker and Mr. Slade had promised to meet them.
“Your fathers aren’t here now,” the clerk told them. “They waited until the last train, then said they’d have to go. They left a note for you, however,” and he handed over a long envelope.
“It’s for you, Ned,” said Jerry, reading the superscription.
“But there’s something in it for each of us,” Ned declared, opening the envelope.