“Oh, all right,” assented Bob. “I’ll look after things. But the grub’s ready, too.”
“Trust you not to forget that,” laughed Jerry. “Well, we’ll need that, too.”
They kept on down the lake. As Jerry had said, their trip on it, and their progress on Silver River had made them fairly familiar with the peculiarities of the waterway. Aside from having run on the submerged log, they had had no accidents, if we except the fire, which did them no damage. And, as there would be a moon, and they could keep in the center of the lake, there was really little danger to be apprehended from the night trip.
Still Jerry and Bob were not a little nervous as darkness settled down. They had gone through much in the last few hours, and to their natural anxiety regarding Professor Snodgrass there was added, in Jerry’s case, the feeling that if the scientist died without revealing what he knew about Mrs. Hopkins’s land, it might mean financial ruin for her.
“I must get help back to him in time!” thought Jerry, desperately. “Dr. Wright simply must come and perform that operation. But it won’t be an easy thing to do—up there in the wilderness.”
Fortunately for Bob he was of a less nervous temperament than was Jerry. He was not so anxious, and, to be sure, he did not have so much at stake.
So Bob kept himself busy arranging matters for the night, seeing that the electric bulbs were working, and that the emergency oil lamps were in readiness.
“Grub’s ready, Jerry,” finally announced the stout lad, emerging from the galley, where he had been busy over the gasoline stove. “Come on down and eat, Jerry. I’ll steer while you stow away some grub.”
“Much obliged, Chunky,” was the answer. “But I’m in no hurry. I’m not a bit hungry. You eat first, and then you can relieve me.”