"I am going to catch them, if I have to follow them a thousand miles!" exclaimed Harold Bird, impulsively.
"That's the talk!" came from Dick. "We are bound to catch them sooner or later, if we stick to the chase."
Yet, though he spoke so hopefully, the outlook just then was dismal enough. The gasoline launch had a good start, and they had nothing at hand with which to follow the craft and those on board.
"I'd hate to see the launch wrecked," said Tom. "But I'd like to see those fellows blow themselves up!"
"Well, in that case I could almost stand the loss of the boat," answered the young Southerner, with a faint smile.
They sat down and talked the matter over for quarter of an hour, Fred and Songbird in the meantime bathing their wrists and having them bound up with handkerchiefs. Not only was the launch gone, but their food also.
"I saw a few things left on the Dora," said Dick; "canned stuff and like that, which they forgot to take or ruin. That will give us something to eat."
"We might find a trail out of the swamp to some plantation," suggested Harold Bird, "but that would take time, and I think we ought to be following the launch."
"How?" asked Fred.
"Ve can't schwim," put in Hans.