"I hope so."
"There isn't much left for him to learn," was the comment of Chester.
"Take the wheel for a bit; you know the course as well as me."
"I am glad to relieve you," said Alvin, quickly changing places with the young man.
"It isn't that, but I suspect my eyes are a little better than yours; I want to use the glass awhile."
For several minutes the silence was broken only by the splash of the water against the bow of the runabout, which plowed her way with ease and grace. Chester Haynes resumed his seat and gave his chief attention to George, who was on his feet and slowly sweeping the visible horizon. The binoculars moved deliberately to and fro, with none of the three speaking a word.
By and by the young man held the instrument pointed to the north, a little to the right of the narrow fringe of islands with the odd name of the Hypocrites. He was not studying this insignificant group, but, as has been said, was looking a little to one side, toward Inner Heron, three miles away. Pausing in the circling of the glasses, he held them immovable for two or three minutes.
"It looks as if he sees something," reflected Chester, with his eyes on the man, while Alvin simply peered ahead and held the Shark to her course. George muttered something, but Chester could not catch the words. Suddenly he lowered the binoculars and asked Alvin to change places again with him. When this was done he handed the instrument to the youth, with the direction:
"Point her that way," indicating the north, "and if you study closely you'll notice something."
Without reply, Alvin spread his feet apart to steady himself and levelled the glass at the point named. The next moment he exclaimed in great excitement: