“Good!” cried Jerry. “Then we’ll take turns at it. It’ll be hard work, and no fun having to stay so close to the hot motor. But if we can do it——”
“We’ll do it!” interrupted Bob grimly. “You take the wheel!”
[CHAPTER XXVIII]
THE LAST LAP
The night would never pass, it seemed, yet slowly the hours of darkness crept onward. To Jerry and Bob, first one and then the other, crouched in the cramped motor compartment, holding the string of the tension spring, which alone kept the machinery in motion, the sixty minutes in each hour seemed like sixty thousand.
They had passed from the lake into the river, and but a comparatively few miles now separated them from the place where the auto had been left. The land part of their journey would take them until nearly night, they calculated.
It was now fully light, and still they sped on. Neither of them could desert his post. Jerry managed, by lashing the steering wheel, to snatch a few moments during which he rushed into the galley, and set the coffee to boiling. Then he was back at the helm again, for the boat was driving herself on shore.
The two chums ate a hasty meal at their posts, Bob in the motor room, Jerry at the wheel.