By this time Mr. Nestor and his partner, together with Bob, had caught up with the others. Andy was helping Jerry light the port, starboard and stern lights, as well as the white one in the bow.
“What’s up?” demanded Mr. Nestor.
“Going to start the stamp-mill going?” asked his friend.
“We’re going to catch the fellow that has our boat!” explained Jerry. “Get aboard.”
They got into the Eel, several club members coming down to the dock to learn the cause of the excitement.
“I hope you catch him!” exclaimed Mr. Wakefield, the club’s athletic instructor. He had no love for Noddy Nixon.
With Jerry at the helm, Ned cranked up, spinning the flywheel over. At the first try the Eel responded, and, with a series of powerful explosions in the cylinders, started away from the dock. Jerry headed up stream, in the direction Andy said Noddy had gone.
“Though he may have turned around again and steered for the lake,” said Ned. “Better go a bit slow, Jerry, until you get some trace of him.”
“I will. I’ll light the search lamp, too, and we may be able to pick him up when quite a way off. We’ll stop at the next club house to inquire if he passed.” For there was another boating association about five miles up the stream.