“A telegram!” exclaimed Bob. “What’s up, Jerry?”
“She’s smashed, I tell you. Busted, wrecked, demolished, destroyed, slivered to pieces, all gone!”
“Who?”
“Our motor boat, the Dartaway!”
“Not the Dartaway!” and Ned and Bob crowded closer to Jerry.
“That’s what she is. There’s no mistake about it this time, I’m afraid. You know we thought once before she had gone to flinders, but it wasn’t so. This time it is.”
“How did it happen?” asked Ned.
“Yes, tell us, can’t you?” cried Bob. “What are you so slow about?”
“Say, Chunky,” remarked Jerry, looking at his fat chum, “if you’ll give me a chance I’ll tell you all I know. I just got this telegram from the Florida Coast Railway Company. It says:
“Jerry Hopkins. Motor boat Dartaway, shipped by you from. St. Augustine in freight wreck just outside Jacksonville. Boat total loss, buried under several freight cars. Will write further particulars. J. H. Maxon, General Freight Agent.”