The moment the cat-boat bumped against the shore Joe and Fred leaped out.
"Can I do anything more for ye?" questioned Joel Runnell.
"I don't know of anything," answered Joe. "If we can't find any other way to get to Lakeport we'll have to walk it."
"And that will take us until after dark, and the game will be over," added Fred, with a groan. "Joe, our enemies have got the best of us, after all."
"Perhaps, but I am going to expose them for this, and don't you forget it!" said Joe, bitterly.
"Yes, but I'd rather be there and help to beat the Excelsiors."
"Oh, so would I."
The lake shore road to Lakeport was located some distance away, and, bidding Joel Runnell good-bye, they scrambled through the brushwood and over the rocks to get to it.
"If we could only locate a horse——" began Joe, when he heard a merry shout from up the road, and looking in that direction saw four fellows on bicycles coming along at a swift gait. As they drew closer they recognized George Dixon and Roy Willetts, of the Brookside Baseball Club.
"Hi! stop! stop!" cried Joe, and Fred joined in quickly. "Stop, Dixon! Stop, Willetts! We want to speak to you!"