“We might row down the lake to where they usually keep the launch and find out,” said Paxton. “We better do it. I wouldn’t sleep a wink if I thought I was going to be arrested in the morning.”
“Nor I,” added Sabine, with a shiver. “Let’s have a look.”
“It’s over three miles from here,” grumbled Ritter. Nevertheless, he was as much disturbed as anyone, and in the end the four took up the oars and commenced the tedious task of rowing down the lake in the rain. It was an hour before they reached the dock where the launch was usually kept. They came in rather awkwardly and bumped loudly against the stringpiece.
“Here she is!” cried Ritter, as he made out the Emma tied securely to the dock. “She’s all right, too.”
“Then that Ruddy crowd played a trick on us—getting us to look for her in this rain!” grumbled Coulter.
“Hi! hi! what does this mean? Who are you?” came a call from the darkness.
“Shove off! We don’t want to meet anybody!” said Ritter in a low voice.
The rowboat had drifted in and was now between the launch and the dock, and it was hard work to shove the craft out into the lake. They heard footsteps and a man showed himself.
“Stop!” he called loudly. “Stop, or I’ll fire!” And now he pointed a pistol at the cadets.
“Don’t shoot!” screamed Sabine. “Don’t shoot! We haven’t done anything, mister!”